


Disconnect

by SE_Soignee (Soignee)



Series: Disconnect Universe [3]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Abduction, Autopsies, C-Sec, Case Fic, Crime Scenes, Destroy Ending, Detectives, Gen, Homicide, I cannot quit turians, Kidnapping, Multi, Murder Mystery, Space Politics, Turians, crime genre writing in mass effect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2018-12-22 02:10:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 90,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11957505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soignee/pseuds/SE_Soignee
Summary: Years after the Reapers' destruction, DI Kolyat Krios is tasked with a missing children case on a remote turian colony. But even an eidetic mind has its limits; when the case escalates to a homicide investigation, Kolyat struggles to unravel both the kidnapping and the murder, at a cost to both his career and personal life.





	1. One Foot In Front of the Other

VICTORY PATH, EPITEIA. DAY ONE.  
_13:01pm_

I am used to running away; my legs have never let me down.

I discovered at six years of age my efficiency at it, racing from my family’s kitchen to hide from my mother’s murder. Her killers never did find me, but my uncle did. I burrowed under his porch like I had promised Mother, and he pulled me out by my ankles as the emergency services overwhelmed us both, blue flashing lights above our-

Gods thrice fuck it, enough.

My memories were insistent this morning, it was infuriating. A distraction made them go away, and I had none. All I could do was run until I puked.

I can’t complain. My colleagues back on the precinct thought I was here on a ‘working holiday,’ a lucky break from my problems. “You’re a son of a bitch, Krios,” T'lori had said, peering around his monitor to glare at me. “Here I am tit deep in ration theft and you get to go play on a beach.”

I replied with just enough sass to upset him. “The brochure called it a lake. But I’ll bring a towel, if there is one.”

Everyone was fluent in snark in C-Sec; it was our main language, second only to Galactic. “Oh? Good for you. Hope you drown.”

The landscape of Epiteia blurred as I sprinted my way along the edge of the lake, the waterline framed red and silver thanks to the hydroponic farms. Above them, the looming dust of Iritum’s ring system swallowed the horizon; we were on a moon, but a pretty one.

Not that this moon was meant for mere mortals like me, despite the recent population swell. For the longest time Epiteia was a vacation spot for the rich to holiday in. It shared a cluster with one of the Hierarchy’s largest training grounds; ten years ago, the land I jogged on existed only so the privileged few could convalesce after they sent their spawn to boot camp.

Now it’s overrun with farmers and refugees, of course. There was a war, don’t you know. _Do Your Part For The Galaxy!_ adverts and vids still bombarded the media, and out of all the races here in the Milky Way, it’s the turians who do as they’re told and make do and mend without question.

My omni-tool flashed a number as I turned a corner; twenty two seconds shaved off from yesterday’s 5k. I suppose if this run was the vacation my colleagues had jived me for, I might as well enjoy it; Epiteia was as idyllic as the brochure said it would be, but it’s not as if I could take it all in running at full pelt.

Some of the nicer manors still remained, despite the need for more farmland. A curious turian family waved at as I sprinted past the borders of their home, working on their Hierarchy approved vegetable garden. The filthy drell socialist in me was pleased that a former luxury holiday home for playboys now housed starving families, but it’s not as if the war made it a choice.

Another kilometre went by before the old, familiar lactic burn of my muscles twinged from the run. There was the pain I wanted. It dulled out everything-

_-enemies and ego are not as important as loved ones, Kolyat; I kno-_

Nope, not now. I focused on the ground, one foot in front of the other. I was sent here to help find three missing children; I should think on that, then I can go home to the Citadel. Why hadn’t Oriana mailed me back? She was-

_-why is everything about you? Could you think about someone else for a change, or is that too hard? Do you think-_

My feet stumbled along the path. Three deep breaths and I was back to my previous rhythm. The children.

They came from families that missed them. No one knew how they disappeared from this colony; they were all turian, all from -allegedly- happy homes. Cute enough to make even the Citadel news, and their little faces were still shown during the evening reports. Never mind that a body of a child had been pulled out of Zakera’s vents last week; who cared about a batarian duct rat at home when the good of the Hierarchy was missing?

The security force of Epiteia did not think anyone would actually listen when they asked for help, and the Council had sent me on loan, per Commander Bailey’s recommendation. It was a new promotion of sorts, with a pittance of a wage increase. I was a detective now tasked with reviewing investigations in Council space; I had no Spectre authority, and deferred to local law while on location; all the same shit, with none of the perks.

Not that I had any hope of finding the missing children here; they were a low priority in the galaxy, even if they were good on camera. For all I knew they were taken by slavers- they always were.

No, the main reason I was sent here was because I had become a political nuisance back home; Epiteia was my punishment. Of course I was told the move was good for my career, but it was a not so subtle order to leave. All I had was a week’s worth of levo rations and my uniform when I arrived. I even turned up two days earlier than planned, thanks to Commander Bailey’s insistence that-

_-look kid, the sooner it’s over, the sooner you can come back. It’ll take you a week, tops. The report should be finished by then, and we’ll know for sure what the I.A. thinks. CSI gave me the ballistics report, turns out the gun was a Viper, older model, they think-_

Breathe in, breathe out.

I spent my free time so far exercising and reading until I was needed, tiring myself out so my head kept quiet. What silenced it the most was running like this, disconnecting my mind from my body to shut it up. If I could take myself to a place where I forced myself to run beyond pain, even better.

An orange line blurred my vision. C-Sec’s very own VI system had woken itself up, stirred by my activity. The Virtual Interface Training and Adaptation System, or VITA as we were meant to call her, was integrated into all my sub-dermal implants; I couldn’t silence it unless I physically yanked her out of my own scales.

VITA was a literal C-Sec procedure no cop would forget, implanted as it was into our forearms. The Council insisted that we have it installed; everyone from baggage handlers to Commander Bailey himself remain connected, all to aid in the ‘political transparency’ of C-Sec.

“Your trajectory to Victory Rise is off by 1.3 kilometres, Detective Krios,” she told me. VITA was programmed to be polite and androgynous, but she spoke in a rumbling purr that read as female to my ears. “Would you like me to reroute you?”

I had enough breath in my lungs to reply, voice uneven from the thudding of my feet. “Yes.”

“Affirmative. Calculating: there, a new path has been set.”

Several officers had already resigned. Though there was a privacy mode function for our off hours, VITA was still there, under our skin. She even woke me up every morning with reports and notifications; I did not trust her. _It_. Whatever.

VITA was not done with me yet. “With the current air humidity, it is inadvisable for you to continue with your current level of exercise. I recommend a lighter activity until H.G. levels are at least 4.3 hygrometers or lower, suitable for a drell male your age.”

My feet crunched the gravel of the path, the ache on my calves spreading to my thighs. I counted my breaths again (one Amonkira, two Amonkira, three Amonkira) just so I could speak. “Fuck off.”

She was still cheerful enough for me to hear the exclamation marks hang in the reply. “I understood that order. Logging out now for silence mode. Enjoy your run, _sere_!”

VITA was right about that, at least- I would. The final stretch down the hill to home was always the best part, and I felt my endorphins flood my chest. Once you pushed past that first barrier of pain, you know your body is capable of more; the land plateaus, turning into an endless road to conquer. The joy of something as simple as this makes me feel I could outrun all the Reapers in the universe if they ever came back, but my memories would do for now.

I've never understood that first instinct our bodies have when we exercise, to quit at the first hurdle of pain. Without going beyond it, you just can't know how far you could really go. Maybe it’s something my kind know better than most. I come from a land of endless desert and plains; we evolved from running between safety spots, tracking our way to safety-

Well, no, that’s a lie. I come from Enkindler’s Basket, Kahje. After I discovered what my father did for a living and ran away, the only use my eidetic memory had as a teenager was for endless _Galaxy of Fantasy_ raids and recalling what Imina Sirron’s distinct band of scales looked like under her skirt.

My legs felt like jelly now, but I could see the prefab that made my home, my UT-47 parked outside. Another minute and I would be drinking water hunched over my table like an idiot, and I could almost taste how delicious it was going to be. I pelted it as hard as could, distracted by the roar of a carrier going too low above me.

The ship looped back on itself to land neatly by my temporary home, and I blinked at the arrival. It was unmarked, but I knew a police vehicle when I saw one; it seemed someone from the local force wanted to meet me earlier than planned.

You don’t get far in C-Sec without working with a turian. After awhile, you get to know the type; this one was fresh out of the academy, going by his age, but smart enough to make detective. He had hopped out and holstered his gun in one motion, and waited by the front of my door politely.

I slumped against the prefab by his feet when I got there. I wanted to decompress from my run in peace, though my guest at least had the sense to wait while I stopped breathing through my knees.

After my third deep breath, he spoke. “Are you okay?”

He got a look for asking. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

There is a custom among my people to never waste a drop of fluid, a conditioned habit from when precious mouthfuls of water measured time itself. To spit in company is seen as a disgusting show of wealth and scorn, but not for all the pearls of the ocean was I swallowing anything after the run I just had.

I was polite enough to aim for the bush by the door, at least; I’m sure it needed watering. “Why are you here?” I asked him, standing up from my slump. I checked the badge on his chest; Detective Demus Adaraka, Epiteia Police and Security Services.

To his credit, he didn’t flinch at the spit. “You’re Detective Krios. I’m-”

I held out a finger before he could go on, forcing him to wait. The prefab clicked open in a green light, and I grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen. I took a large gulp before I could speak again, leaning against the frame of the door. “Continue.”

He showed me his ID with a flick of his omni-tool, mandibles tight against his jaw; he was both surprised and annoyed at my warm welcome. “I’m Detective Demus Adaraka,” he said.

“Pleasure to meet you.” I chugged my water in silence, waiting for him to speak.

Turians were so very easy to read, I don’t understand why other races have problems. He had no idea what to make of me, and was doing a bad job of hiding it. “I know we aren’t meant to meet until tomorrow, but I’ve been sent to collect you now.”

Adaraka had a rumbling Cipritine dialect that was pleasant on the ears; his hardsuit had seen better days, but was kept meticulously clean, and he was vain enough to keep his colony marks fresh.

“Any reason why you’re at my door, detective?” I could see he was unnerved by my moving frill as I gulped down the remains of my water, trying his hardest to read me as I read him.

“There’s been a murder.”

Thank Gods, I had something to do. It was probably a test, but I was desperate for work. “This is relevant to me how?”

“You’ve been assigned as lead. It’s why I’m here.” That explained his politeness; I could work with turians like this so very easily.

I placed my hands behind my back. His eyes followed the line of my arms, and I hid my amusement at being checked out; xenophiles come in all shapes I suppose, but as Haron would say, it takes one to know one. “This is your jurisdiction, not the Citadel’s. I assume it is related to the missing children case?”

“Perhaps. No one’s sure. The community is a little …on edge,” he replied, shifting on his feet. “The victim is related to the kids, but in passing- he worked for the orphanage they were all in, as a grounds keeper of sorts. Could just be a coincidence.”

There’s no such thing in our line of work, but at least it was a thread I could pull. “Of course. Orphanage still open?”

“Ah, yeah. Been open four years; there’s kids still there.” The unsaid hung in the air; there was a war, don’t you know. These things were needed. “He died in his home, though. Been sent to show you.”

My undersuit stuck to my body and I was hungry. I needed a wipe down, a change of clothes and a hot meal; If I was lucky, I might get one of those. “I’ll meet you by your transport, give me a moment. I assume we’re leaving in your carrier?”

“I have orders from the captain to take you there as soon as possible.”

They really must be desperate if they wanted me. “I won’t be long.”

Officer Adaraka was probably ordered to drag my by my fins to the murder site; he was about to protest, but I ignored him to head into my tiny prefab to change. As the door closed, he rubbed his hand behind his crest, unsure what to do.

Good. Definitely one of those turians.

It didn’t take long to force myself into my own hardsuit and connect my gun holster. Detective Krios: Zakera Ward C-SEC was painted on my breastplate, along with my personal number: ZW-3498. I always wore my leather coat over the top; it stored what I needed more than my armour could.

I checked the pockets for the important items; my _se’aus_ tin, my commline, spare medigel, burner omni-tool, scrambler, medical grade gloves. I gave myself one final pat and it was time to go.

Adaraka kept the engine running for me. As soon as I swung into my seat and clicked down the barrier, I got down to business. “Tell me all you know.”

His fingers worked the panels fast, eyes on his horizon. “Got the call at 11:34 am for it. Kaeruns Abtion was discovered this morning by our local historian, he wondered why Abtion didn’t attended last night’s Spirit service. He had access to the door code and discovered the body in the bathroom.”

I opened my omni-tool to silence the VI for the maximum two hours it allowed me- I would not have it interfere with the investigation. “And our victim?”

“Turian male, hundred and fifteen years of age. Lived by himself, never married. Moved to Epiteia in ‘36, lived here half his life. Was military until he was forty, not much of a lifer; was part of the 235th Legion.”

You could tell a lot about a turian by their service record. “Anything of note?”

My new partner shrugged. “Eh, not really. Dealt with raiders and pirates in Trebia, got a couple of commendations for it. Worked as an engineer for the hydroponics system when he left, retired at ninety. Still worked odd jobs around the colony here and there, mostly landscaping.”

“And the orphanage, as you mentioned.”

Adaraka nodded. “Was there from the start. Did a lot of charity work, actually- even helped out with the Spirit markers; was religious, as much as you can get with us, anyway.”

Ah, the joys of colonies; of course Adaraka would have all this to hand. I assumed that unclaimed corpses were rare here, and that someone always knew someone in a place like this. “That’s more thorough than I thought.”

He cleared his throat at the mild compliment. “He was one of the old timers here, everyone knew him.” Small communities unnerved me with their familiarity; I escaped Kahje for a reason.

The sooner I solved this, the sooner I could go home. Back to a place where I could be a stranger again, once the inquiry report was over. “Did you know him?” I said, watching the landscape blur outside the window. The lake dominated the view still.

“Not as such.”

His subharmonics seemed hesitant, and I turned to face him. “Oh?”

“Like I said. He was well known in the community, you know? Just one of the old guys, part of the furniture, as much as the lake is- or was, in his case.”

“Hmm.” What I didn’t hear was that he would be missed. Kaeruns Abtion may have been recognised by his community, but that doesn’t mean he was liked for it.

I had no reason to take in his information as false, but I needed to confirm it for myself. “Do I have security clearance yet?”

“Should do. We can go to the station after to check, I’m sure the captain wants to speak to you anyway. She’s in this afternoon- you’ll meet Sully and Terix at the scene; Sully’s an alien like you.”

I chuffed at the statement. “That was a very human thing of you to say.” Saying that to a turian was almost an insult.

“Sully _is_ a human,” he said, smiling at me. “Maybe it’s rubbed off on me. Our CSI guy Vulis is strict about procedure, just to forewarn you. Doesn’t like detectives stomping around her evidence.”

“CSI usually don’t, no.” I got on well with the crime scene department. I knew how long and boring their work actually was; part of my community service after my failed attempt as a hitman was spent cleaning up after up them. It was as pleasant as it sounds.

I’d rather not repeat it, I once had to scrub brain matter from a ceiling. My career as a cleaner was over at least, thank all the gods. I mean, I still stepped over pools of body fluids for work and have had the delight of being spat on in public, but at least I get to wear a shiny detective badge while doing it.

“Terix, you there?” Adaraka had spoken into his comm system; we must be close.

“Yep, still here,” I heard through the muffled line. “Nearly done, just have to move the stiff. Sully’s with the historian still, want us to send him home?”

“The stiff? Really?” I raised a brow at the word.

Adaraka at least looked contrite. “Watch your mouth, Terix. And keep the historian there, I’ll talk to him.”

One of my favourite mentors at C-Sec Academy was a gentle, softly spoken salarian who took his CSI work very seriously. He taught me that murder victims should be treated with respect; their bodies are not ‘vics’ or ‘corpses’ or ‘stiffs.’ They were people, and we should treat them as such. “We are at the end of their journey, Krios,” he had said. “It is our privilege to be.”

Not so different than my father’s prayers over his targets, I suppose. The difference there was he defined their end; with my job, I had to know why.

“Touching down,” said Adaraka, pulling me from my memories. “We’re here.”


	2. Embrace This One To The Waters

KAERUNS ABTION’S BUNGALOW, DAY ONE.  
_13:46pm_

We had parked down the driveway away from the flashing lights of the patrol skycars. It was the only home in a two kilometre radius; Kaeruns Abtion’s lived alone by the lake in a flat little bungalow, isolated from the colony.

His home was made of basic stone and plastic, all strong utilitarian lines that defined turian design. When your girlfriend built communities for a living, it became easier to read buildings; I knew that Abtion’s home was a standard build funded by the Hierarchy, and these bungalows were done on the cheap and in bulk. It was at odds with the exclusivity of Epiteia’s former resort status.

The garden, though, that was no one’s standard. I recognised both levo and dextro flowers in separated beds, and well-raked pathways. A turian Spirit stone stood in the centre, lovingly maintained.

Who I assumed to be the historian who discovered the body sat in a patrol carrier off to the side, clearly rattled. Officer Sully, the only human here, sat with him, talking quietly into her commline. Officer Terix waited outside the CSI tents when we arrived, standing guard in front of the flickering holo tape. He dismissed me with one look; I outranked him, and he didn’t like it.

“CSI is waiting for you by the decon unit,” he said.

A surly turian; I could work with those, too. Insipid politeness always annoyed them the most. “Thank you officer. Carry on.”

The tent housed crates of boxed evidence already. The officer filing them did a double take when he saw me, righting himself with a head shake so hard I heard his mandibles click. “Going to assume this isn’t your first crime scene,” he said, eyes on my uniform. “Our C-Sec guy?”

“Correct,” I replied, pulling on my gloves.

“The decontamination chamber is ready, you know the drill. Should be okay in your uniform, it’s not that messy. Walk where it’s been marked, blocks have been put down.”

I do so love having standard procedure regurgitated to me. “You Vulix?” I said, hiding my sarcasm. Puffs of air and light scanned my armour as I stood in the chamber, hands held up to my face.

“Nope, just her lowly assistant. The bathroom isn’t done yet, that’s where she’ll be. The kitchen, bedroom and living room have been tagged and bagged.”

The machine released me in green light; I could finally enter the house. I saw the affects of homicide weekly back on the Citadel, but I had never been to a scene off-world before; this would be both familiar and new, an odd mix.

Eidetic does not mean photographic, despite what aliens think of drell memory. I looked over everything twice for crime scenes, working in a clockwise spiral then back again. The living room was first, and for a man with a hundred years on him, our victim lived a sparse life. The only thing of any decoration was a holo of a unit of soldiers, a turian legion with a frigate behind them.

“We got a copy of that,” Adaraka said, noting my interest. “No sign of a forced entry anywhere on the property, but there’s evidence of theft in the kitchen.”

“For the food?” Stolen rations was a common enough crime, even in well fed communities.

“I’ll go check, but probably.”

Adaraka left me alone to explore the bedroom- I found it equally as bare. A few datapads scattered the side table; they were mostly garden and history related, but I assumed one would house porn. It always did.

The wardrobes were small and tidy; the bed linens were even made, but like the living room, all the furniture had a layer of dust- Kaeruns Abtion was neat, but not clean. “Kitchen had his gun safe, it’s been broken into,” Adaraka said from the doorway.

I nodded. Weapons were worth more than food. “Chase that up, please. I’m moving to the bathroom.”

A turian female blocked the threshold of it before I could enter it. “You the lead?” she said. She was middle aged, with green plates and pale hide. Her colony markings labelled her from Gothis, and a visor obscured one eye- all CSI officers usually had one.

I peered around her before speaking. Kalahira had embraced this one to the waters; Kaeruns Abtion was shot in his bath. “I’m DI Krios. I assume you’re CSI Vulis?”

She nodded her answer. “I can work around you, provided you behave. This isn’t cleared yet.”

Vulis treated me like an errant schoolboy, though perhaps she was used to dealing with cops who were. “You’ll forgive me if we don’t shake,” I said.

There was a pause as she narrowed her eyes at my gloves. “Those sterile?”

I held up my hands. “I assumed you would have nothing for a drell. These are standard issue for C-Sec; I brought a box with me, just in case.”

Her cold blue eyes flicked from them to me. “Let me check. No offence.”

My palms with scanned with her omni tool, and I tried not to flinch. “They’ll do,” she said. Vulis seemed on the edge of asking something, but went back to her work. “Before you ask, time of death was six hours ago, give or take. I don’t have to explain what ‘estimation’ means, do I detective?”

She was allowed to sass me; you don’t argue with CSI at their scene, even if you’re the lead. “No.”

“Good. You’re free to bag evidence if you want. Those gloves should hold.”

The plastic bricks marked for walking were necessary; they were there to avoid the still damp floor of the bathroom, where blood and water had overflowed. “Are bathtubs commonplace in Epiteia?” I said. “I know this used to be a resort town, but this seems indulgent, at least by my standards.”

Vulis never even looked at me, intent on her work. “We’re circling a class II ice planet; most of Epiteia’s money is in water trade, actually. We have the stuff to spare.”

“Hmm. I assumed showers were preferred for turians, if you’ll forgive the presumption. My colleagues make a great deal of noise about their fear of water.”

“When you reach a certain age, a hot bath does wonders for the carapace.” She was amused by my question; I suppose it was a useless thing to ask, but I was a Citadel boy. Some of Zakera’s districts still struggled with maintaining a clean supply of everything, thanks to the crumbling infrastructure; the keepers had all died when the Crucible fired.

I had to stride awkwardly on the blocks to reach the tub. Abtion had not been moved since his death, though his head remained above water. “Wash the sins from this one and set him on the distant shore.”

The words left my lips before I could stop them. “What?” said Vulis.

“No matter.” The bathwater was a grubby shade of blue from his blood and fluids. The entry wound of Abtion’s head looked clean, but a portion of his crest and temple were destroyed from the impact. I would guess at a rifle, fired from the door; any closer and half his face would be missing.

When turians die, their bodies fold into themselves, neat and polite. It’s as if their cultural self-sacrifice continued even in death, just so they wouldn’t bother the living with their passing. The same cannot be said for when they die in water.

It is no one’s friend in death, especially in my line of work. Water did horrible things to bodies; I have witnessed all the stages of putrefaction of most species thanks to the victims I’ve seen, pulled from the protein vats and water ducts of the Citadel.

I am aware of the clashing overlap between my own fractured beliefs and the job that I do; I would never escape the sea. “Lucky we got this early,” I said.

“Lucky for us, but not for Mr. Abtion,” said Vulis.

Abtion’s gaping head wound stared back at me. “His own gun.”

“Not a suicide.” Vulis narrowed her eyes as I looked at her. She gave me the benefit of the doubt before she denounced me as stupid, I could tell. “I can show you a rough trajectory.”

Lines of orange illuminated the bathroom from her omni-tool; a holo of the bullet fired from the door, ambling towards a fuzzy outline of the victim sitting up in the bath; not 100% accurate of what happened of course, but enough.

“I am going to assume his own gun was used to kill him,” I said, waving a hand through the looping holo. “The wound seems consistent to the type of rifle our victim would have in his home.”

“If you say so,” she said, turning her back on me again. “I’ve pulled three recent DNA markers from the biometric scanner, all male and all turian. There’s more to sort by the other rooms, but a ten metre radius of the victim lists those as the most common.”

All turians kept a gun. I have never met one who didn’t, and for someone this old it would be a Heliat rifle, a leftover from his service days. “I suppose in a community like this there would be similar rifles around, but his own is closest to hand.”

The data of her omni-tool was more interesting than me. “That’s your job. I just tell you what happened.”

“Detective Adaraka is checking the kitchen for the stolen evidence, I assume you found something of note?”

My attempts at conversation had won. She sighed. “We only found a pistol. If the murder weapon is what I think it is, those rifles have a nasty kick- you have to have a bit of strength to handle the recoil. Not sure if Mr. Abtion still had it in him to even clean it.”

Something caught my eye in the bath, nestled under the victim’s knee. I lifted up one sleeve of my jacket and fetched it out, holding my breath as my hand stirred the putrid bathwater. Vulis held open an evidence bag for me, curious at my interest.

“Just a tube of face paint,” she said, passing me the bag. “Must’ve fallen into the water during the shooting. Old brand, they don’t make these any more.”

“He wanted to look nice. Freshen up his markings.” I gestured to the mirror on the tub’s edge. Out of curiosity, I tilted Abtion’s face gently with my dry hand; his mandibles were still tight with rigor mortis. “See? He started to paint a line here, but was interrupted.”

“Not sure why you want it bagged, but all right.” I looked around at the bathroom; the cupboards were sparse and full of out of date products. Confirmed bachelor was universally understood in all species.

Adaraka had returned to stand guard by the door, since the room was too small for three of us. “I sent the historian back home with Sully,” he said, adjusting the seal of his gloves. “We can do a follow up at a later date, if you’ll excuse the executive decision.”

If we were on Zakera, I wouldn’t. However, this was his beat, and though Council law was the same, customs were different. “I’d like to speak to him.” I tried to keep the bite from my words but failed miserably. “Did you get a statement, at least?”

“I did, no alibi for last night. But we can go after we visit the station for a follow up, he told me he’ll be at the Watchtower.”

I relaxed a scale’s width. “Hmm.” I looked at the bagged face paint in my hands and thought of the holo in the living room, his legion. “Do you know if the victim’s gun is missing? I assume he had one registered with you.”

“Yes, checked it up while I was in the kitchen- a rifle is missing. Worth a few credits to collectors, if you’re into that sort of thing. The remains have been bagged for evidence.” He glanced at Vulis once, then looked away. “Your assistant is packing up, Vulis. Says he’s done.”

Vulis grunted her reply; she didn’t like Detective Adaraka much, going by the glare she just gave him. Before we left, I gave the bagged face paint back to her. “Thank you, you were very thorough.”

She blinked at the acknowledgement. “It’s my job to be. You’ll get the report tomorrow, we have to send off colony for some lab work; please don’t call until then.”

“Understood.” I planned to visit her in her lab, if only to work out her attitude problem. “I want to look over the kitchen,” I said to Adaraka. “Show me.”

The bagged evidence was already boxed when we got there. I checked the very empty cupboards while Adaraka used his clearance in codes to unlock it. “Kitchen is as bad as the rest for the dust, don’t think he cleaned much,” he said. “But at least he put the guns in a safe. Not that it helped, but Abtion did what he should.”

Once a crate was marked for the evidence locker, it needed a manual override if it had to be opened before it got there; a report had to be filled on the spot as to the why, which Detective Adaraka tried to hide his annoyance over as he typed into his omni-tool.

“Mr. Abtion didn’t eat much,” I said, staring into an empty cold unit. I poked at the broken lock of his gun locker after; it seemed easy enough to hack- even I would manage, and I had little patience for the skill.

Adaraka shrugged. “It’s a problem getting the older generation to eat, especially now. They think the rations should go to families first- old school cultural leftover, I guess.”

The lid had lifted itself off with a hiss, and Adaraka  gestured for me to look inside.  I picked up a pistol, an elderly looking Carnifex. Some turians were fanatical about gun cleanliness and kept to a routine out of duty, even if they never used a gun again in their lives. In rare cases, some guns were shoved in wardrobes and under beds to be forgotten about; not everyone liked their military service.

Kaeruns Abtion was a turian who kept his armoury clean and maintained, but had never fired a single shot in the past year, at least not with the pistol. “Looked after,” I said, looking at a full ammunition block for a rifle. “But not used.”

“See what I mean about old school?” Adaraka snorted. “Man, this stuff is ancient.”

I frowned. “Did he take part in the war?” I didn’t have to narrow down what one, he knew what I meant.

“Probably,” was the vague answer. “He was evacuated off colony when we all were. I know he came back to help with the clean up in ‘87. Before then, no clue. Records will have something.”

The box closed itself when I put the evidence back in. Adaraka stood with his hands behind him, waiting; he had enough of the crime scene, it seemed. “Didn’t find anything on the perimeter,” he said. “I’ve send Terix door to door.”

Every district and ward had their own slang for procedure. Door to door I recognised, since we used the same on the Citadel. It was literal; you walked door to door and asked anyone who answered if they had noticed anything- even detectives couldn’t escape doing it.

“We’ll leave CSI to do their jobs.” I wondered what kind of cop Officer Terix was; he may have thought I was dirt under his talons, but he still might be good at his job. “Unless-?”

He took my question with a shrug. “There’s just two houses in a two kilometre radius from here, Terix can handle it. You want to do it yourself?”

I couldn't hold an entire police station's hand while they worked. "No, I'm sure Officer Terix is fine."

Something about this case itched. I debated looking over the rooms one more time, one last clockwise spiral to commit everything to memory. I blinked and forced the last hour to the present, just to check. “Bathtub, rifle, legion, missing.”

“Pardon?” Detective Adaraka looked over his omni-tool at me.

The memories faded and I smiled. “No matter. I’ll trust your judgement here. Let’s see what your station is like.”

“You’re in for a treat,” he drawled. We both peeled off our gloves into the trash and submitted ourselves to the decontamination scanner again before we left.

Abtion’s garden was too special to ignore, and I wandered around the Spirit stone. “This area’s been checked,” Adaraka said.

“I can still admire the work.” I trailed a finger along a grass stem. I knew nothing about yard work, and wondered how much effort was needed for one as maintained as this. “This was well loved.”

“He was old,” Adaraka replied. As if that was the answer to all of life’s pretty gardens.

I pulled out my _se’aus_ tin. In Rakhana, a drell's nicotine habit started wars and formed our industrial revolution; now I used it to cleanse my palate from the scent of crime scenes. “Station, I suppose. Let’s go, detective.”

Adaraka frowned, puzzled at what I was doing. “I’d offer a pinch, but it’s levo,” I said, folding a lump to place under my lip. He looked at the tin, still unsure what to say. “It’s legal, Detective Adaraka. I’m not shoving hallex into my mouth.”

“Hallex is legal here.” Adaraka was still politely curious. The pair of us walked back to the carrier in silence, but I could see he still wanted to talk about it. “Do you eat it? Or is it like chewing gum? That is illegal, by the way.”

Aliens were always baffled by the passivity of  _se’aus_. “It’s not gum,” I said, pulling down the seat barrier. “It’s tobacco you suck. An old, obscure habit- as much as smoking is for other species.”

“Unless you’re batarian, they still smoke like Spirit pyres. But sucking tobacco? That’s new to me.” Adaraka’s amused unsaid was loud. I enjoyed my nicotine as quietly I could, annoyed I had to have this conversation every time I got my tin out.

We sat in silence again as the carrier took off. Everything was so sparse and spread out here; it reminded me Enkindler’s Basket back on Kahje, a stretch of endless green and water, nothing taller than a house. I felt his eyes on me as I stared out the window, content to watch the view.

Adaraka had put the cruiser on auto pilot and shoved a foot on the dashboard. Judging by the dents in the plastic, it was a habit. “Chase up the rifle for me,” I said. “I assume you know the usual smugglers here.”

“Yep.” He cleared his throat. “You know, turians used to scrape kava sticks against our teeth before we learnt how to make them palatable,” he said, after a beat. “Something like that, anyway. That’s a bit like your sucking, ah, stuff.”

I still refused to look at him. “I know.” If he insisted on small talk, I would counter with work. “We can visit the witness after I have been introduced to the station. Get him while it’s fresh in his mind.”

“No problem.” Adaraka drummed his fingers on his knee. I twitched at the noise. “So. C-Sec, huh? Which Ward?”

“Zakera.”

“Right, yeah. Of course, what with you being drell and all.”

“Yes.” Not many were familiar with the immigration flow of the Citadel, but Adaraka was. He knew where the highest population of drell would live, which was interesting; either he had experience, or he did some research. “Did you read my file?”

Adaraka did not move a millimetre as I returned a stare of my own. “The one C-Sec sent, yeah.”

I sucked my _se’aus_ in response; he had read the media reports too. I would’ve, in his position. “I should read yours.”

He gave a startled bark of laughter just as the commline chattered code for a welfare check nearby. We both ignored it. “Knock yourself out; Mine is barely as exciting, and I got five years on you.”

At least he had a sense of humour. “I’ll fit it in around all the Gods damned reading I need to do for this case. I feel tonight is going to be me and a datapad.”

“You don’t need a file to know about me, Krios. You can ask me anything. Almost, anyway.”

Most turians I worked with had no idea that the things they said could be taken for something else. A rare few flirted as they breathed, however, and it seemed Detective Adaraka was the latter. “Don’t get your hopes up,” I said.

I might work well with turians, but there’s a line. Besides, even if he was to my taste, I stuck to the old krogan adage when it came to interpersonal relationships: _don’t shit where you eat_. Turians had no such boundaries, but Adaraka could take a hint.

“Noted,” he said, smiling at me. “How you liking Epiteia? You got a nice place; we couldn’t put you up in the hotel, no space thanks to the refugees. But the prefab is like a hunting lodge, I’m kind of jealous- nice bit of forest around there.”

“I don’t think I will do much hunting, to Amonkira’s regret. Unless you count criminals.” I’ve thrown many a blasphemous, mumbled prayer his way while on the hunt for lowlifes.

“Amonkira?” What was it with the constant questions from aliens? ‘Tell me about your people, Krios.’ As if somehow I knew everything- I had to research my own fucking eyelids on the extranet once, after too many questions about how they worked.

“Drell god of hunters,” I said, looking out the window again.

“Neato.” He took the hint over my reluctance to speak and exhaled to the silence, silent for the rest of the journey apart from his drumming fingers. He tapped complex little rat-a-tat rhythms on his knee, and I had trouble counting the beats.

We passed over a collection of streets that lead to the centre of the colony like a heart. The houses and buildings were less sparse now, and as we touched down to park just outside the station, a woman sat up from the steps of the entrance to greet us. “Ah,” was all Adaraka said.

“Ah?” She had no sense of personal space and towered over me as I got out the carrier. “Back off, please.”

“Detective Krios?” She was a reporter, of course she was. She was dressed in a light green armour that offset her brown plates and brown hide, a camera drone clicking at her heels.

I had my fill of journalists the past month; one even camped outside my apartment, a pleasant day for neither of us. Despite my anger at her presence, I found it interesting she was turian. The only reporting their kind did was diligently rewording official statements the Hierarchy approved of; they did not brute force interviews on doorstops.

Detective Adaraka knew who she was, it seemed. He leant against the hood of his carrier and sighed. “Come on, Abi. Don’t do this,” he said. “The captain will give you something soon enough, let us do our jobs.”

Abi ignored him, too focused on me. The lights of her armour illuminated my face as her camera drone whirled above me. “Do you have anything to say on the matter of the upcoming results of your inquiry report?”

“I believe the correct procedure is ‘ _no comment_ ,’” I replied, shielding my eyes.

“Who do you think murdered Samuel Austin?”

She was here for me, not for Kaeruns Abtion or the missing children. “If you have questions specifically about the Austin case, then I suggest you contact my superiors at C-Sec HQ. There is a press department that deals with these matters.”

The reporter snorted. “I did, they issued a lovely statement, by the way- the usual PR varren shit. I managed to speak to a Armando-Owen Bailey though, he wasn’t happy I got through. Said the inquiry was still pending, but you were a good cop, that your record should speak for itself. And what an interesting record it is, huh?”

I jerked at the words. Either she knew what buttons to push, or this nosy little reporter had somehow got past Emi. Bailey’s fierce PA put the fear of Gods up everyone, myself included. “I have nothing else to say on the matter. I assume there will be a press conference soon regarding today’s issues. Good day.”

I turned on my heel to leave, but she spoke again. “Is the Ward killer related to the missing children here in Epiteia? Is the death of Kaeruns Abtion murder? Are they related? Why are you here, C-Sec?”

“Abi,” Adaraka warned. “Enough or I arrest you.”

“For what, asking questions? Shove off, Rake.” She was on the tails of my coat still, and tried another tactic. “Did you do it, Krios? Did you kill him? It’s okay, who cares about a serial killer?”

“Abi!” Adaraka had grabbed her by the upper arm now, and marched her to what I assumed was her skycar. Her camera drone was still in my face, blinking its lens at me.

“Get off me, asshole. Come on Krios, you did it, right?”

The camera flashed again, blinding me. That was it. Before I could stop myself, I had opened up my omni-tool and aimed an override right at at the centre. It wasn’t entirely legal; one of the techies from the Network Division gave me the program under the table. “I believe your camera has malfunctioned.”

It made satisfying crunching noises as it stopped working, the lights flickering off in a stutter. Abi was furious, fighting Adaraka still as she was shoved back into her skycar. “I said get off me! And you can’t touch my camera, that’s against the law!”

“I didn’t,” I said. “It malfunctioned.”

She had focused her ire on Adaraka now; I left before she could get to me again, and headed to the police station alone. The incident had annoyed me, and I felt my bile catch in my throat again at being here, stuck on this Gods cursed colony. _The sooner you can solve this, the sooner you can come home_ , Bailey had said.

This was my punishment, and I loathed it.


	3. Email Interlude: Day 1

**To:**  Detective K. Krios, C-Sec District 12: ZW-3498  
**From** : Noth’Rahl Kacpass  
**Subject:** Thank you [ _Attached Audio: starshift.wav_ ]

You probably don’t remember me. Thank you for finding my son, Rax’ar, and returning the body. It’s given my wife some peace.

He was a good boy. He wanted to be a musician, and he left for the Citadel a year ago to try- he said he had somewhere to stay. We didn’t hear from him in a month, and we only started to worry before it was too late. I am not sure how bad it was for him to end up dead in a duct vent- he only talked about his music. We sent him credits for a ticket home, but he never wrote us back.

I’ve included one of his tracks in this email. He created mostly angry noise, but this one I liked. He called it ‘Starshift.’ I don’t know what it meant, but it gives me comfort to know that he left something beautiful in the world somewhere.

  
-Noth’rahl Kacpass

 

* * *

 **To:** Zakera Ward Officer Mailing List  
**From:** Captain Haron  
**Subject:** Same Shift, Different Day

1) Stop whining about the damn patrols. You get what you’re given, so do your hours and stop it. Feet to pavement and jog on, boys and girls.

2) In regards to the upcoming strike action, to those of you interested- HQ will let us know soon, okay? Nothing has been decided yet, but when a date is, don’t worry. The entire Citadel will know it, believe me. And just because I disapprove, doesn’t mean you can’t take part.

3) If you don’t give the xeno-personnel department your holiday time, you don’t get your days. I know you can all fill in forms; barely, going by the paperwork of some you, but still.

4) Update your language programs, why do I have to keep on reminding you all?

-Haron

 

* * *

 **To:**  Detective Kolyat Krios, C-Sec District 12: ZW-3498   
**From:** Detective Jolun Nato, C-Sec District 12: ZW-7654  
**Subject:** Kan’nge Case- witness report?

Krios,

Congratulations on the promotion to Investigator, and I hope all is well in Epiteia. You’ve annoyed Bats with your leave, it’s hilarious to watch- I have never seen him so grumpy.

I’m writing to say I’ve taken over the Kan’nge case; did you finish the witness statement from the widow before you left? I can’t see it in the system. You do rather excellent reports, after all. And yes, that was me (what was it Nagashimi calls it?) buttering you up. I’m not sure why I have to cover you in dairy produce, but humans and their idioms rarely make sense.

Anything you can think to add not covered in the case notes would be most excellent too.

-Nato

 

* * *

 **To:** Kolyat Krios, Personal Mail  
**From** : Kepral’s Research Foundation **  
****Subject** : Gentle Enquiries Into This Month’s Attendance

Gentle Greetings Friend of the Foundation,

This one hopes you are well, and that the Enkindler’s Light embraces you.

The main topic of the upcoming meeting is to rename the charity after your father, the war hero Thane Krios. Kepral's Research Foundation would become _The Thane Krios Foundation_ ; a vote will be held on the matter, though this one is sorry to inform you that many board members are reluctant to change from the old name.

This one hopes to see you at the next meeting to add your opinion. This one understands your work is very important, but as you own 51% of the Trust, this one humbly asks you attend this week. It also has news to share on the wondrous advances the research team on Sur’kesh are making; the results for the gene therapy are quite exciting!

-Galerano, secretary of the Kepral’s Research Foundation

 

* * *

  
**To:** Kolyat Krios, Personal Mail  
**From:** SewBot 2.0: Your Personal Tailor For The Extranet  
**Subject:** This Week’s Alerts, As Chosen By You!

Sere Krios,

Here is a condensed version of your custom alerts in the past week, made to measure for your perusal. To change the frequency of these mails, please adjust your feed settings accordingly.

-SewBot

=======  
**EXTRANET SEARCH ALERT: KOLYAT KRIOS** [ _231 mentions, 12 new articles_ ]

 _Zakera Extra, two day ago:_ The inquiry report into the death of Samuel Austin, the man revealed to be the Ward Killer, has been extended by a week, according to C-Sec’s Internal Affairs. The fate of Detective Kolyat Krios, the detective found at the scene of the murder, is still unknown, but Zakera Extra can report that he remains an investigator for Citadel Security.

“Detective Krios is working with us,” confirmed Commander Bailey, speaking from C-Sec HQ this morning in an exclusive interview. “He is under no further suspicion, and is fit to serve in accordance to both Citadel and Council law.”

Formerly retired C-Sec Captain Castis Vakarian, new lead investigator for the inquiry, declined to speak with us, citing it was C-Sec law to do so.

=======

 **EXTRANET SEARCH ALERT: ORIANA LEE** [ _4 mentions, 1 new article_ ]

 _Alliance News Network, one day ago._ 230,000 homes are available for all species on the desert world of LV-426, built in cooperation with human, krogan and turian governments and their people. The planet, renamed Morioh after a turian Spirit of hope, is finally habitable- after four years of solid terraforming.

“Morioh is exactly what the universe needs right now,” Says Oriana Lee, a project manager from Kellam Enterprises, the company in charge of building the colony. The company are also responsible for last year’s launch of the Billion Home Project, an ambitious xeno-housing programme that aims to home refugees of the Reaper War.

“It’s an exciting time, we’re so pleased it’s finished,” continues Ms. Lee. “The Billion Home Project is here to provide for all colonies and new communities a fresh start. Morioh is a shining, brilliant example of interspecies cooperation, and the modern tower blocks we’ve built are smart, functional and ready to be homes for all, no matter the species.”

=======

 **EXTRANET SEARCH ALERT: THANE KRIOS** [ _3512 mentions, 131 new articles_ ]

 _Oh! My! Gossip, one day ago._ Former boyband member and current Weeping Heart model Lalam Suol has been hotly picked to play Thane Krios in a vid series set on the infamous Normandy, according to upcoming casting calls. The vid series has been tipped to be directed by the  _Last of the Legion's_ very own Vaina Mansturos, though many production issues plague the project still- namely, a lack of money to actually fund it.

Suol, rumoured to be dating fellow model Bessi T’lan, has remained quiet about his connection to the series, but has spoken in previous interviews on his enthusiasm to play Sere Krios himself. “I’d take it in a heartbeat. Who wouldn’t want to play the most infamous drell in the galaxy?”

=======

 **EXTRANET SEARCH ALERT: HUMAN/DRELL** (safety filter: moderate) [ _231 mentions, 2 new articles_ ]

 _Ilium Star, three days ago:_ “The Illuminated Primacy took our daughter away from us!” accuse the parents of a six year old child, taken here from Nos Astra to an unknown location on Kahje.

A mixed drell and human couple find themselves in the middle of a legal battle over a six year old they claim is their daughter, despite no blood relation to the girl. They allege the child was forced under sedation when she was taken from their home, in an effort to keep her quiet.

“We know we can’t have children together naturally,” explains Emma Nyugen-Amot, former guardian of the girl we can only legally name as ‘Tira.’ “But we found each other after the war. Tira’s birth mother wanted us to raise her daughter as our own; we have no evidence of this, since the Reapers destroyed everything. Tira called us Mom and Dad- blood doesn’t define that.”

Her husband, Sere Timon Nyugen-Amot, mentions that Tira was: “the part missing in our hearts. Please tell Tira we love her very much, and want her back where she belongs. Do they understand she has special needs? She cannot sleep away from home for long.”

Though Ilium’s very own Hanar Ambassador declined an interview, spokeswoman Yolyah Liat of the Primacy’s Department of Children and Families was happy to talk. “I cannot comment on a specific case. I will state, however, that even independent drell children registered outside of Kahje and its colonies come under our laws. A drell orphan without a legal guardian is adopted by the Illuminated Primacy into the Compact immediately. There is a year’s grace for any blood relative or guardian to come forward to claim their status, should the need arise.”

=======

 **EXTRANET SEARCH ALERT: CAT OWNERSHIP** (safety filter: strong) [ _345,2334,22 mentions, 22310 new articles_ ]

 _Cat Care Monthly, two days ago:_ “Which VI For What Cat?” An Interactive Guide, tailored for you and your cat’s needs. [  _click here to take the quiz_ ]

 


	4. Bathtub, Rifle, Legion, Missing

EPITEIA POLICE STATION, DAY ONE  
_15:08 pm_

The deep take everything. No matter how much distance there was between me and the Citadel, I still could not escape the godsdamned inquiry report.

Adaraka made no attempt to join me. He had a familiarity with this Abi, just like how he knew who the murder victim was. In small communities this was to be expected from the police force, but my curiosity got the better of me.

I crouched by the main door to watch, and could just see them through gap of the wall. Adaraka was still bent over Abi’s skycar, but this time she was smiling at him. His hands gripped the lip on the roof as they spoke, and it was oddly intimate, as if at any moment he would lean in and touch her.

The broken camera drone was fed in through the window. I assumed the press for a turian colony was almost non existent, that she wrote about missing pets, school plays and whatever piecemeal the Hierarchy fed her for a quaint newsletter. Why did she doorstop me? Turians aren’t exactly known for cutting edge journalism.

He stood up now- Adaraka was not happy about something. Abi laughed in reaction, and the car was illuminated in orange from her omni-tool. I could just make out the reverse of an image on it from my position; I had seen it enough times in the past month to know what it was, even from here.

It was a shot of me, leaving C-Sec HQ the day I was almost discharged. Not a flattering photo by a long shot- my inner eyelids had blinked when the camera flashed, so of course it was the one used for every fucking news report so far.

I clenched my teeth to keep my anger in check; Adaraka wasn’t amused, either. He pushed her arm away, and Abi hit the dashboard in frustration. “No,” I heard him say, loud enough to carry to me.

My own arm turned orange as my omni-tool blipped. “Your blood sugars are low, Detective Krios; you should eat something,” VITA said, pleased with herself. I slapped at it until she went away- the deeps take this one too, Gods thrice fuck it. This piece of garbage was why C-Sec planned to bring the Citadel to its knees via strikes.

They noticed nothing, oblivious to dumbfuck VIs and their stupid notifications. Perhaps I’ve spent too long on Zakera’s beat to judge this as anything but a conversation; I was used to dirty journalists and dirtier cops, and not the small town versions of them.

Had I gotten so paranoid that everyone was out to get me? I only met Adaraka two hours ago, what could he really do- sell my story to the highest bidder, and in turn ruin his career? Trust worked both ways; I pushed my way through the main doors of Epiteia’s Police and Security HQ quietly, and left them to it.

The place was tidier than I thought, though less open plan than C-Sec’s precincts. Doors and rooms lead off who knows where from the lobby, a deliberate design in confusion. Despite this, the station was tiny by my standards. That this place was the centre for the entire colony’s policing network was a disturbing thought, all things considered.

An elderly kava machine opposite the main desk flashed itself out of order, and I could do nothing but observe the room’s only occupants while they finished. A small turian ran the front desk, stuck with a resigned, here to help expression, yelled at by a woman twice his age.

There was no chance I could escape their conversation, even if I wanted to. “Why is this so hard to understand? Someone stole my Phaeston statue and is trampling my flowerbeds,” she said. Her light clothing was edged in a fussy silver, including her talons.

I imagined her kind was the normal here; she was an old school Epiteia turian, one of those that used this place as a resort before the refugees had come, though the desk sergeant didn’t seem to care. “It wasn’t stolen if it was put back,” he said.

“They put a dress on it! It’s undignified for a Spirit of Creation. I have taken pictures for evidence, though I was loathe to do it, poor dear. Do you need to see them?”

I would have very much have liked to see the pictures, but alas. “Madam, until you catch the, ah, ornament groper blue handed, we can’t help."

The woman chirped in indignation. "It’s not right, it’s not. My lilies are from Palaven’s botanical gardens! Do you know how rare they are? It’s those refugees, I’m sure it is. Why do they do it? I mean, I don’t go around poking your garden and molesting your statues, do I?”

I coughed into my fist to smother a laugh; the desk sergeant’s mandibles twinged only slightly, to give him credit. “Not if you can help it, no,” he replied. His eyes jerked to me and he raised a brow. “Let’s start with you filling this in for me,” and offered her a datapad. I knew what was coming next.

She looked at it like it was roadkill. “What? Why do I have this?” Every precinct and every station the universe over had it; it was the ‘please go away’ one size fits all application form, given out to the more trivial requests of our time.

“Step aside to fill in the form, madam, others are waiting to be served. There’s room by the seating area.”

She refused to move. “I don’t want a damn form, I want whoever is murdering my flowerbeds to stop.”

“If you’ll excuse me-”

I decided to interrupt- nothing would be done, otherwise. “DI Krios of the Citadel Security Services,” I said, flashing my badge. “I’m here to see your investigation team.”

As the woman flinched at my voice, the desk sergeant beamed at me. “Of course sir. I’ll just get Sully to-”

The doors squeaked open as Detective Adaraka joined us; he finally had left the journalist alone. “I’ll handle it, Galnius, don’t bother getting up. Next time you can use the officer entrance, Detective Krios- I can show you where it is.”

As soon as the double doors of the foyer hissed shut, I knew we were safe to talk. “Form 905 used often here?” I asked.

Adaraka snorted. “Like you wouldn’t believe. We’re expected to find every lost glove and deal with all the stupid neighbourhood watch crap that lot obsess over. Though with the increase of people, we’re getting more 601s and 602s,” he said, naming the codes for theft.

“I can imagine. And a 501 today.”

_-Not a suicide.’ Vulis narrowed her eyes as I looked at her. She gave me the benefit of the doubt before she denounced me as stupid, I could tell. ‘I can show you a rough trajectory-_

“Sadly, yes.”

We walked down a corridor of incident rooms in silence, and I looked him over. He was still annoyed; whatever Abi had said to him had rattled his carapace. “Problems with the journalist?”

He breathed in before speaking, stopping us both before we reached the main incident room. “Yeah, nothing we can’t handle.”

I wondered if I was included in that statement. “Oh?”

He rubbed his eyes, then leaned against the wall. “Abi is- look, you’re like a new toy. Once the press statements have been released, she’ll calm down. If not, I’ll deal with it- I can talk to her.”

Small communities were terrifying with their familiarity. “I can handle one smalltime reporter,” I said. “For now, I would like to connect to your intranet. I have reports to read.”

Detective Adaraka snapped to attention. I had pushed my authority, and he responded. “No problem. I have to see the captain soon, but I’ll leave you to it. You’re sharing my office with me for the duration, I got you a terminal.”

He left me alone with a ration bar and a cup of water before he left. I spat out the remains of my se’aus into the garbage and got down to the bulk of my work for this case- endless fucking reading.

Vitelia Aberdas, eight years old; Plivia Duvitus, aged ten; Juvus Caeplin, aged six. Those were the children who I had been tasked to find, dead or alive. They were victims of the war, their families listed as officially dead; all three were adopted legally into families from the Epiteia colony, when-

_-the room was cold, and Oriana had lifted the blanket over us both, eyes not moving from the screen. ‘Please find my girl,’ a keening mother said. Her grief seemed genuine enough. ‘She had her Commander Jane and Archangel action figures with her, and was wearing a red suit with yellow stripes.’_

_‘Poor thing.’ Oriana murmured over the droning of the newscaster, her pale hand curled around my thigh. She smelt of soap, and a faint scent of chlorine stuck to her hair as I kissed her crown; she must’ve gone for a swim after work. ‘Do you know anything, Kolya-_

I shoved the remains of the bar into my mouth and focused on my terminal.

They had been missing for four days now. The longer a kidnapping case went on, the harder it would be to find them. The first witness report I wanted was at the top, written by a Lieutenant Averic Aix. He was part of the naval legion in charge of this cluster, and wrote to say he found no slaver or pirate activity in the area at the time, but offered to keep an eye for any signs of the children. Nice of him, but ultimately lip service.

They could still be stolen to order, of course. I would have to contact immigration and go through all the flight records of the colony, something Officer Sully and Detective Adaraka had made a start on, to no avail. Search teams, mostly volunteer, still combed the colony for any sign of the kids, alive or dead. I did not feel optimistic about a discovery there, either.

The rest of the files were transferred to my omni-tool in minutes, but my mind was on the Abtion murder, fresh as it was. Not that I could do anything until CSI Vulis gave me her report, but it didn’t stop me thinking about it.

In C-Sec there was always a large amount of waiting for evidence to turn up, no matter the case. There was always delayed ballistics and autopsies to review, or for a reluctant commander to sign off a search warrant. I once had to watch six hours of vid feeds from three districts, and that was after the VI program had narrowed it down from three days. It put away a serial rapist, though.

It was solid police work that solved crimes, not the whims of a genius detective like the vids show. You picked up a square peg and dutifully found the square hole; no officer picked up a round one and hoped the evidence would fit, it wasn’t done.

But his murder was still there, framed on the wall by my memories as I stared at the chipped white plastic. Bathtub, rifle, legion, missing.

There was the bathtub: the face paint, the shooting, the time of death. Where did the victim intend to go after his bath? The rifle: missing, where is it, who has taken it- why was the pistol left, if they were collectibles? His legion: the holo in the living room, the only thing on display. “Why was it so important to him? What did he know?” I was mumbling to myself, I realised.

Then there was the missing, the reason I was here: those three children- are they connected, what did Kaeruns know about them? There was an interview I could listen to, but the memory of the holo would not let me go. I was stuck on recalling each individual face as I heard a throat clear itself behind me.

“Yes?” I said, answering it. I realised whoever had come in had seen me staring at nothing, mumbling about homicide.

“Detective Krios? Erm. Hi?” The voice was high and clear, obviously human. Not as pleasant as Oriana’s alto; too high pitched, hesitant- the speaker always seemed on the verge of asking a question.

I should probably stop comparing every human female I meet to my girlfriend, it wasn’t entirely fair. “Officer Sully, I assume. Hello.”

“Sorry to, ah, interrupt?”

“You’re from London,” I said, turning to face her. She was brown haired and brown eyed, the same homogeneous blend of human I was used to seeing in the Citadel; she was also short, standing at around hundred and sixty centimetres. A mottled burn went down the left side her throat and splashed what I could see of her left arm.

“Yes! The original one, not the colony. Good ear. You speak Sol-English?” Sully was relieved I had made an effort at conversation. Her thin shoulders relaxed now, a small smile at my words.

“Some. Enough to know the insults, should my translator malfunction,” I said. I knew _lizard_ in several languages, obviously. “Have you come to introduce yourself?”

The hesitation had returned, but she offered her hand anyway. “Sort of. I have to take you to Captain A.D -Ah, Captain Aciltis-Dixon, I mean. We all call her A.D.”

Her hand was dry, at least. Some humans were disgustingly moist. “You’re ‘the other alien,’ as Adaraka so charmingly put.”

She laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, he has a way about him.” Sully fiddled with the sleeves of her shirt, an oddly childish gesture for an officer of the law; probably one to hide her burns. “Anyway, we should move. Best not keep the captain waiting.”

“Of course.” I bowed my head for her to lead. I was taken to a nicer part of the station as she walked ahead, one where the floor was polished and the walls were free of scratch marks. Captains were always housed in the neater rooms of a station, without question.

Sully used her omni-tool to open a large door, leaving me to it as it closed shut. The captain remained seated as I entered, and looked up from her datapad. She was beautiful for a turian; her golden eyes offset a rich, honey coloured hide, framed by dark plates and purple Cipritine markings.

I put her as in her fifties, though could be older, considering the discreet care she put in her appearance. Three gold bangles decorated her forearm, and one had a small plastic basketball charm attached. I only knew what it was due to the precinct’s obsession at playing it outside the carrier hangar. It was a human sport that translated well with turians and asari; I found it dull.

I assumed the presence of the bracelet had something to do with the family holo on the table behind her. A large, dark skinned human wrapped his hand around her shoulder, a pair of children between them. One was a small human child at around eight years, lighter in skin tone than his assumed father, and a little turian girl I would put at five, all red hide and pale plates.

Everyone looked happy, but holos could lie. It was odd the captain even had it on show, especially at her level. Commander Bailey and Captain Haron were family men, but refused to have their home life anywhere near their work desk. I wouldn’t even have a picture of my Fish on show, let alone Oriana. They were precious things to be kept separate, just in case.

But Captain Camicia Aciltis-Dixon was proud of her mixed family, and she wanted you to know it, too. “Nice to finally meet you,” she said, not rising from her desk. “I have heard many good things about you, Detective Krios. Please sit.”

I wondered what exactly, but did what I was told. “Thank you.”

“Is your accommodation to your liking? What with the increase of refugees to the colony, we had to put you there. As I understand it, your species require a dehumidifier. One should arrive tomorrow, according to the docking schedule. I ordered one when I knew you were coming.”

I blinked at the politeness. “That’s thoughtful of you,” I said. I had brought my own, but another was always useful. Perhaps I could actually use the shower with two running. “The prefab suits my needs. I have even explored the paths around the lake, it’s in a beautiful location.”

“We’re proud of our scenery here in Epiteia, even if most of us don’t swim.” She looked briefly at a report on her table before speaking, watching my reactions carefully; she was captain for a reason, and it showed.

“Is there a problem, captain?”

I was given a winning smile. “I’ll level with you, Krios- when I asked the Hierarchy for help over this, I didn’t expect them to send anyone, least of all from the Council. In the grand scheme of things, three missing children is a drop in the ocean compared to the rest of the galaxy’s problems.”

The words fell off my tongue before I could stop them. “Kalahira guides and welcomes all into her arms, regardless of size. You cannot measure one drop’s worth in the embrace of the sea.”

I had parroted my father and the priests out of habit. “That’s… poetic,” she said, leaning towards me. “A custom of your people?”

A headache pinched at my brow. I resisted the urge to touch it. “To some. Not many speak the words any more, but the idioms remain.”

“Of course they do.” She tilted her head at me, then cleared her throat. “I understand Detective Adaraka took you to the Abtion crime scene today. Did you find anything?”

 _Bathtub, rifle, legion, missing_. I blinked away the memories before I spoke. “So far we have nothing to connect the murder of Kaeruns Abtion to the case of the missing children, other than the fact he used to work at the orphanage. However, there are still leads to chase- namely, the murder weapon to find.”

Her amber eyes dipped. I read sadness in them, then relief. “Shame about his death, he did a lot for the colony.” There it was again, the familiarity; Adaraka was the same. “I’ll issue a statement today. It won’t stop the gossip, but it’ll save some hurt for the families of the missing children. Any news is false hope, which I won’t encourage.”

The sooner I reached a conclusion about this case, the sooner I could go home. “I will interview these families tomorrow if I may,” I said.

“Of course. It would be interesting to see what a fresh pair of eyes can make of it all, if there’s something we’ve missed.”

This Captain A.D meant no sarcasm, her words were genuine. “Always useful,” I said. “I use my colleagues for a similar purpose. It is a good procedure.”

She clasped her hands before looking at me, and I knew I was being measured by whatever level of worth she valued. “I heard you had trouble with our press outside the station,” she said, after a beat. “I’ll speak to Abi tomorrow, our children go to the same school.”

Again with the creepy local familiarity, but I suspected she only knew about Abi's attempts at journalist because she was told. It appeared that Adaraka kept nothing from his captain. “I don’t think she appreciated the override I unleashed on her recording equipment,” I said. What I did wasn't legal, but no Captain would take a mangled camera bot as a serious offence.

It seemed Captain A.D didn't care, either way. “Perhaps not. I’ll soothe it over,” she said. That was an interesting choice of words; post war unification propaganda was everywhere, and enforced. What a delightful conversation that would be outside the school gates.

Even though Epiteia had aliens like Sully and Captain A.D’s partner, the Hierarchy still controlled it. I wondered if the residents influenced each other, as we all did on the Citadel. “She did not get much. This Abi was more interested in me than the case.”

She smiled wryly, amused at my . “Understandable. You’re exciting to have, at least by Epiteia’s standards. How are you getting on with our station?”

“So far Detective Adaraka has been most helpful.” Captain A.D nodded, pleased; Adaraka seemed to be the golden boy here. “I was also impressed with your crime scene specialists, CSI Vulis and her assistant were efficient.”

The captain had raised her brow at my praise. Vulis did not have many friends at Epiteia’s station, going by her reaction. “Good- that’s good.”

“I have not met many more, aside from the officers present at the scene and the desk sergeant.”

“There’s not much else to know, really.” With a grunt, she lifted herself out with the handles of the chair; I realised then she was pregnant, but her desk had hid her stomach. “Well, I’ll let you get on, Krios. Feel free to come to me for anything.” That wouldn't happen. No cop would ever visit their captain for tea and a handout, least of all me.

Captain Aciltis-Dixon held out her hand to shake. It was a dismissal, but a polite one. “Nice to meet you, captain,” I said, returning the gesture.

“Keep me posted, please. This case is… it’s very dear to us here at Epiteia. It’s affected the community deeply. I hope we can fix this.” She meant that. I looked briefly back at the photo behind her, and wondered if the little girl came from the same place as the missing children.

The door closed with a polite hiss and I found my way back to my desk, this time joined by Adaraka. “Go okay with A.D? Sully said you were in with her,” he asked me, staring over his holoscreens.

“Pleasant enough.” I narrowed my eyes at him. His loyalty was with his captain, not me. Time to watch my mouth. “Anything on the rifle?”

“On it now,” he said. “No ships or carriers have taken off or landed in the area, so we got that at least- it's not off world yet. Just hitting up my contact now, no response. He usually comes through within an hour; I’ll go talk to him after we visit the historian.”

“Hmm. Good.” I was getting bored of staring at my terminal, and opened my _se’aus_ tin for another pinch while I read my email; we would go after he was finished.

 **To:** Detective Kolyat Krios, C-Sec District 12: ZW-3498  
**From** : Detective Bateseda T’lori, C-Sec District 12: ZW-4126  
**Subject:** I did you a favour [favour.vid Attached]

_Sup K,_

_Fish is ok. Ori was in your apartment after me, gave her the address for your swanky resort. How’s the activities anyway? Got a massage yet? I heard turians do it with hammers._

_-Bats_

_PS: watch the vid_  
_PPS: it’s not porn_

Opening the video from T’lori would be a risk. Despite what they said, it probably was porn. Even knowing this, I flicked my eyes towards Detective Adaraka to check if it was safe to watch, only to see him engrossed by his terminal.

The video opened to T’lori’s smug blue face in my living room. “Hey Krios,” he said, standing by my bookshelf. I turned down the volume just for my ears. “Since you asked me to look after your weird hairy fish, guess where I am.”

“Amonkira’s sagging ball sac,” I muttered. Why, why did I give him a keycode?

Adaraka looked at me, but didn’t say anything; I could see him trying to watch the vid from corner of his eye when he turned back to his work.

T’lori had picked up a mythology anthology that was centuries old. It wasn’t so much that it was an antique and precious that bothered me, just that it was mine and he was touching it. “Ha, it’s your drell shit. This is ancient, right? What happens when I put it here, does it fuck you up? I bet it does. Ooh look, now it’s with the datapads. I think it belongs there, does it belong there, Krios?”

I tugged my jacket straight and glared at the vid. No, I won’t rise to this. T’lori was behaving like an ass, as usual.

Despite myself, I still watched it play. T’lori had moved onto a scroll of asari poetry I inherited from my father- most of the books I had were his. That one though, I liked; I had even met the Justicar who had gifted it. “You own a _Canticles of Light_? Really?”

T’Lori at least put that back on its plinth after- even he had limits. “Buddy, if you want to see the good of my people, I can lend you _Into The Blue 3: Wayward Maidens_ \- them’s some good titties. Part two ain’t so bad either. Don’t bother with four, no one needs to see elcor dong.”

No, no. I will not be baited; I should close the video and move on with my life. As soon I reached out, I saw his blue hand yank another book from the shelf. “A load of human crap here too, but you got a fetish. What’s this one- _Philosophy Of Thomas Hobbes_.” T’lori had opened the book so loudly I heard the spine protest. “He’s one ugly bastard. Your porn is weird, Krios.”

I went through an old breathing exercise I learnt from a priest years ago. Inhale, exhale. I am stone on the shore-

“I’ll just rub my blue hands all over it some more and put it here, how about that?” I could do nothing as he slid the book amongst a collection of my prayer books. “Citadel protocol anyway, always knew you were a racist dick. I mean, keeping all these cultures divided like this,” he said, tutting. “They should be free to mix! Honestly, I’m just helping you out here.”

That was my breaking point. Before I could stop myself, I had opened up the mail system.

 **To:** Detective Bateseda T’lori, C-Sec District 12: ZW-4126  
**From:** Detective Kolyat Krios, C-Sec District 12: ZW-3498  
**Subject:** BATS STOP TOUCHING MY SHIT

JUST CHECK ON FISH YOU ASSHOLE  
WHY DO YOU THINK IT’S FUNNY TO TOUCH PEOPLE’S SHIT  
HOW WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF I FUCKED UP ALL YOUR PORN  
THERE’S A SYSTEM TO THESE THINGS

_Aslkdja;lskdjaklsjds’da_

T’lori had shoved the camera right into his face now, close enough for me count every obnoxious freckle. “Guess I should go. Have fun on the beach resort, my friend! Oh, I’m sorry, I mean lake. Don’t let the water get in your frill, I heard that’s bad for you guys.”

The video had stopped: I breathed out and deleted everything I had typed. “Son of a bitch,” I said, muttering still. Adaraka had given up his pretence of ignoring it.

“Not good?” he said mildly, tapping his thumb against his chin.

“Hnngh.” I felt the hiss of my anger die in my throat. “My colleague back home wanted me to look at something,” I said. “I am responding.”

 **To:** Detective Bateseda T’lori, C-Sec District 12: ZW-4126  
**From** : Detective Kolyat Krios, C-Sec District 12: ZW-3498  
**Subject:** [No Subject]

_Bats,_

_TY for checking on the Fish. Please don’t touch my books again._

_-K_

_PS: You’re an asshole._

I sent the message off before I could change it. The vidmail had been deleted from my storage, but it’s not as if I could forget what it was. “Well. Remind me not to ask you to look at something,” Adaraka said, leaning back in his chair.

“Wise choice.” I rose and flicked my jacket into shape, annoyed at my lapse of anger. “Work matters are fine, of course. Come, let’s go interview the historian. I need a break from reading.”


	5. We Survived, We Go On

EPITEIA WATCHTOWER, DAY ONE  
_16:12 pm_

There’s a rhythm to interviews, especially with a partner. There’s no good cop, bad cop, like the vids assume. What worked best was an endless stream of polite questions, one after the other, designed to give the subject no chance to think about what they just said.

It’s also hard to get right with someone new. To give T’lori his due, we could interview anything when we worked the same case back on Zakera. He may have the emotional range of varren shit, but at least Bats knew how to talk to a witness.

Adaraka was my partner for all of four hours so far, and while he was the station’s star detective, we still hadn’t clicked into a working relationship. He had stopped asking personal questions, at least; the walk to the Watchtower was free of small talk, thank all the gods.

I still did not know what kind of detective he was, but if it was anything like the incident room back home, I would know soon enough. “You know what a historian is?” he asked me.

“Of course.” I played patix, horask, and chess with one once a month in Zakera Park, depending on our mood. “I tend to the original source of both time and memory. I watch the ripples grow as the Spirit is made, a pebble cast into the water. I do not interfere with their passing, but record the ripple’s flow, neither damning nor defending. I am both watcher and listener, for this is my duty.”

“Now you’re just showing off, quoting that,” he said. I grinned- of course I was. “I swear to the Spirits sometimes, but you got me beat.”

“About the same level of cultural blasphemy as me. It is what it is.”

He was curious again. “And what is yours, exactly?”

We both stopped to let a family walk ahead of us. Predictably the children stared at me, wide-eyed at the alien. “I’m a recovering Laharian. Mostly agnostic,” I replied. “Nothing deeper.” I opened up my omni-tool, a full stop to the conversation.

“Fair enough.” Adaraka took my brush off with a shrug, still amiable. “Hard to have a religion right now, considering the mess we’re in. Seems counterintuitive to think of a heaven when you survived an apocalypse.”

“That was almost philosophical, detective. I’m impressed.”

I had taken over his case and his office in the space of an hour. In his position, I would be spitting blood. The worse Adaraka had given me was polite bafflement, taking my lead without question or back sass. “Hey it’s not all good looks,” he said, looking down at me. “Sometimes they let me arrest people, too.”

The man we would interview might be turian, but if it’s someone who can bend answers, it’s one of their historians. The ones I had met on the Citadel were kings and queens of deflection, the original politicians of their people. “What did you think of our witness, anyway?” I asked. “He had no alibi.”

“Seemed genuine enough, he was badly shaken when I saw him. Sully said he was more of a mess before that. I should mention he helped out at the orphanage too, but he’s a historian- that’s kind of what they do. We interviewed him for it at the time, it’s in the file somewhere.”

“Of course you knew him.” Gods spare me from small communities, they contaminated everything.

“Not like that,” he said, defensive. “But a historian is kind of a big deal here, you know? He’s even helping the families of the missing kids. Volunteering for the search parties, that kind of thing.”

No one back on the station was hopeful about the children being found. We had no evidence the murder victim or his historian friend were even related to their disappearance, yet here we were, scraping for connections.

“How do you prefer to interview people?” I said.

Adaraka flicked his eyes at me briefly. “By asking questions. It usually helps.”

“I can see why you made detective.” With a snap of my wrist, I pulled out all the station had on this historian from my omni-tool. Clean record, clean flight licence, clean military service, clean everything.

“Obviously,” he said, refusing to be baited. “But I can let you lead it. Gives me a chance to see how a C-Sec boy runs things.”

“Hmm. You familiar with the traditional one-two?”

Every cop was since it was the standard. “Tried and tested.” Adaraka said, nodding. “Shame, I was hoping for something else. That drell magic I’ve heard about.”

I paused, a finger hovered over my omni-tool still. Adaraka really did flirt like it was nothing. “Magic?” I realised I hissed the word, not said it.

“You know, they say you guys are meant to be able to read people, right? One mandible quirk and a neck scratch means he’s hiding something, or whatever. Drell are meant to be masters of this. Or so they tell me.”

Ah, the infamous they; I hear they a lot, as a cop. “Sounds like ‘they’ need a visit from the local xeno-sensitivity officer,” I said, grinning.

Adaraka snorted. “Says you.”

“Says me.” I didn’t tell him I learnt the bulk of my people reading skills propping up the bar of the Blue Line during my beat days.

“You can even understand the hanar, right? I’ve only spoken to one, but it was enough for me to thank the Spirits for translators. He clogged my omni-tool with Enkindler scripture before I knew what he was doing.”

It seemed most people’s encounters with hanar were always centred around pamphlets. “Most drell do, to a degree. But even if you know the luminescence for sad, doesn’t mean that it’s the truth. Body language can be faked with all species, and I’ve been tricked before.”

He drummed his fingers against his holster. “It’s the grieving ones that get me, no matter the race. Hard to spot what’s genuine, you know?”

“Even turians can lie,” I replied. “I know.”

Adaraka put a shocked hand on his chest. “How dare you. The Hierarchy said we can’t, so it must be true.”

I arranged my features to be suitably chastened. “Oh, I’m sorry, detective. Forgive the slight.”

“Already forgotten about.” He stretched his arms out with a grin. “Besides, do you think someone would do that, Detective Krios? Just lie to the police like that?”

We had stopped outside the tallest structure of the street. The Watchtower, I presumed. Here is where the stone sang for the Spirits, should you be bothered to listen for them. “The depths forbid. Come on, let’s find out what our historian knows.”

A monolith sat in the centre of a courtyard as we entered the building, covered in flickering holos I recognised as prayers. Despite the size, it was the trees surrounding it that dominated the place; their branches formed a ceiling of gnarled silver arms, covered in wooden and plastic tags placed there by visitors.

I turned over one as I passed, smiling at the scratchy hand; a child had written it and had asked the Spirits for help with their homework. “Help indeed,” I said. Adaraka batted a tag from his crest, annoyed.

Not all the tags were as pleasant, of course. Most described grief, prayers for guidance to cope with loss and death. Adaraka shivered, eyeing a prayer of mourning with distaste. “Let’s get this over with,” he whispered. “Places like this flip my gizzard.”

Our presence did not go unnoticed. “That stone has been there longer than you,” said a voice behind us. We turned to face it, hidden as he was by the trees. “It’s part of the original rock of the moon, before Epiteia was terraformed into what we see now. It bears the marks of a million years, and will remain standing even after our children’s children die.”

I could’ve argued otherwise, but we had a job to do. Our speaker was around forty, dressed in the cap and robes of a turian civil servant. He was the historian we had come to interview, a mug of kava cupped in his hands.

Adaraka stood up straight, his hands behind his back. “Pavma Lucilus? We spoke earlier. I’m Detective Demus Adaraka of Epiteia Police and Security. This is my colleague Detective Krios from the Citadel’s Investigation Department. We’re wondering if you have time for a few follow up questions concerning the events of this morning.”

Technically I was a D.I -a Detective Investigator- but detective was good enough for me. Adaraka had misranked me three times now, and I wondered if it was deliberate.

“I assumed that’s why you are here,” said Lucilus. “We can head into my office, I could do with another kava. Would you like a cup? Ah, tea for you, Detective Krios, was it? I have some kind of asari blend for guests.”

There’s a rule we in C-Sec about hospitality. Accepting offers can be construed as a bribe via gratuities, and can be used against you in court. We all ignored it, especially when we were in the subject’s home. So many offered out of habit and nerves that it was almost an unofficial procedure to accept. “That sounds lovely, thank you,” I said.

As soon as the tea was in my hands and pleasantries were dispensed with, I started the interview. “Can you think of anyone who would harm Kaeruns Abtion?”

Lucilus sat up straighter. “No, not at all. Unless they stole something?”

We both had to be careful in how we replied. Whatever said could be regarded as leading the witness on, and turians were more inclined than most to defer to authority.

“Do you think something was stolen?” I said. A question to a question never failed.

“I wouldn’t know, the place looked tidy. I didn’t really- ah, pay attention, once I found him in the-” he paused, then breathed in. “Definitely a two cup day,” he said, drinking his kava shakily.

“What kind of person was Kaeruns? Would you call him a friend?” asked Adaraka. He had put his own drink to one side, refusing to touch it.

“He was… taciturn,” answered Lucilus. “He did not have many friends. I guess I was the closest thing to one.”

“You had the keycode to his home,” I said. “Is there a reason for that?”

Lucilus sipped his kava again, hands wrapped around the mug. “He asked me to check on his house and garden while he was away for a few days, this was months ago- some work he had on Iritum. The code still worked.” I raised a brow at Adaraka. He made a note in his omni-tool to check.

It was Adaraka’s turn to question. “You mentioned he attended your Spirit service. How often?”

“Regularly. It was rare he missed one. He also helped with the courtyard here, maintained the trees for me. Grew flowers for our Spirit Day ceremonies too.”

“Did he consider you a friend?” I asked, finally trying my tea. It was too sour for my taste, but drunk it anyway. “Despite that he was, as you say, taciturn? A good word.”

Lucilus exhaled suddenly, and it was obvious the question upset him. “I don’t think he did,” he said, softly. “He refused to talk to people, I don’t understand why. Get him on his gardening and he would talk for hours though if you let him. I couldn’t begin to tell you about his life before Epiteia, but I knew enough to see there was hurt there, somewhere. His family died when he was young- he told me that, at least. He went to an orphanage too, it’s why he helped out at Two Trees.”

A brief flash of a report scrolled in my memories. Two Trees was Epiteia’s answer to an orphanage. “What about his military service, did he tell you anything about it?” Adaraka said. I watched Lucilus’s face carefully. My new partner had asked what I wanted to know the most from our victim.

_Bathtub, rifle, legion, missing._

“He was no lifer,” Lucilus answered. “I can’t tell you much else, since he rarely talked of it.” He paused, thinking things through. “He mentioned he worked as an engineer for his legion, I remember now. ‘Always in the air,’ he told me. That it was nice for him to be on the ground.”

Kaeruns Abtion was probably killed by someone he knew. Homicide statistics (before the war, at least) were on my side, so I went for the obvious. “Did he mention any relatives, partners, exes? Anything that sticks in your mind?”

“None, sorry.” The more questions we asked, the more it was obvious that Lucilus knew about as much as we did concerning Kaeruns Abtion’s past. I had to hope there was something on the extranet we could find somewhere, or that CSI had cracked his personal data.

“Did he come with anyone to the Spirit service, or speak to anyone there?” said Adaraka.

“Sometimes Pernila, but Pernila speaks with anyone. I think they talked about plants, mostly.” Another witness to question; I would seek her out later.

“Why did you visit him today?” I said.

“As I mentioned to you before, because he missed service- it was rare enough to warrant a trip. And last time I saw him he was …ah, more mute than usual. Wouldn’t even look me in the face.”

Interesting. “When did you go to his bungalow?” We knew he made the call from his omni-tool at 11:34 am, but turians had fickle memories.

“At around eleven. I was here before then, arrived at seven from home.” All this could be checked; we might be a colony, but there was still vid feeds of the roads.

Adaraka made a note on that, I could see from the corner of my eye. Lucilus had given a different time to last, one that would give him an alibi, should we prove it. “Can anyone confirm this?” he asked.

“I saw Tulnea Calanion before I left,” said Lucilus. “She was in her skycar, the funny blue coloured one. I’m sorry I did not mention it earlier. There’s a vid cam for the courtyard too, it’ll show me here in the morning.”

Adaraka and I looked at each other. “We’ll need access to your network if that’s possible. Can she confirm she saw you?”

“Perhaps. The lights flashed as I went past, but many people do that around here. It’s polite. The terminal over there should have what you need for the cameras.” I nodded at Adaraka to get on with it; his omni-tool accessed the files as soon as he connected.

We had to chase this Tulnea Calanion too, since skycars kept programs of their journeys. They could also be hacked and deleted, but the data alone was enough evidence for a witness statement. “How do you know Ms. Calanion? Are you close?”

“We’re both members of the Lifebearer Brigade, she’s a good person. She volunteers her time with the refugees more than most.” He perked up, thinking of something. “Will you see her today? if you’re going could you take a box of donations? It would do me a favour. It’s just clothes.”

Detective Adaraka answered for us, closing his omni-tool with a snap. “We don’t have the cruiser. Sorry about that.”

“Ah, no matter, no matter.”

Adaraka gave me a look now, one all cops recognised from their partner, however new: are you done?

Turned out I wasn’t; I wanted to know a little more about this historian. “Do you know the families of the missing children?”

“I help them when I can,” he said. “We all are. It’s a terrible thing to have happened here.”

There was only silence from Adaraka, who had now left me to finish the interview alone. He leant against the wall, arms crossed. “Can you think of anyone who would do the families harm?” I asked.

Luciril shifted in his seat, exhaling a breath. “None, I’m afraid. Two of the families are newcomers, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

It did if he mentioned it. “Are you a newcomer yourself?” Luciril looked over at Adaraka briefly, unsure what to say.  
  
“Of course not, I was born here,” he replied eventually, thanks to Adaraka’s silence. “I would be a terrible historian otherwise. My mother even held the position before I took over. Not that it works that way, but I was suited for it. It’s… important to remember. The Spirits do not forget, but we do.”

I failed to point out that he spoke to a drell. “Does anything stand out about the families? Anything at all, no matter how small.”

“The Duvitus family, the mother- she seems the most broken- little Plivia was her only child. The parents of the little boy aren’t that interested in my help, but are polite enough in their refusal. The other parents, well…” Luciril shifted in his seat. “The Aberdas lot are a little more rough than Epiteia is used to, but they are grieving in their own way. They have several children- seven, I think. Not all theirs, three are adopted.”

Luciril did not approve of the Aberdas family, that’s for sure. There was a common misconception from other species that turians held no class snobbery, as if somehow the Hierarchy made it disappear. If a level playing field based on achievements existed, then why did duct rats and the poor struggle to even reach the bleachers? Where’s their meritocracy, anyway?

Ah, what would I know? I told my own government exactly where they could shove their Compact obligations. “Can you think of anything else?” I said. “Doesn’t matter how small or insignificant you think it is, it may help.”

He stared at the floor before speaking, trying to scrape something up. “All the missing children loved that _Captain Jane_ series. The families mentioned it a lot.” Luciril was given my best ‘please continue’ smile. “The kids all played games together, so I was told. The girls would fight over who would play Jane.”

Adaraka looked at me. This was, apparently, my show, and I wondered why he remained silent. Even if you hated your partner’s guts, you put on a united front to suspects and witnesses alike. Anything less was a sign of weakness to exploit.

“Did the children play together often?” I said.

“As I understand it, the two little girls were-” and he winced at the past tense, then corrected himself “-are best friends. They were always together, according to their mothers. The youngest one, he was half their age, almost. Perhaps they let him tag along in their games?”

It wasn’t anything I hadn’t already read at the station. I stood up and placed my teacup on the table, ready to move on. “Well. If you can think of anything else, let us know,” and I sent over my details via my omni-tool. “It doesn’t matter if you think it’s a waste of time, I can assure you it’s not.”

The door to the courtyard opened and we were ambled our way out of the office. My fin grazed the tips of a tag as I went past, sending it spinning. “Do your people have something similar?” he asked me, watching me trail a finger along another.

I exhaled. I assumed the historian would ask questions about my faith- his sort usually did. “The Enkindlers do. There’s several poetry and art festivals where litanies are preserved in bioluminescence. The rest of us pray when we need guidance, it’s never written down- though, I suppose the funeral stones we use are the closest thing to your tags. I did something similar for my mother’s funeral-”

_-I paint the stone yellow. She liked yellow. It’s a present for my mami, not the sea. I do not understand why-_

“-Laharian burial, correct? Your Goddess of the ocean?” I was not surprised a historian would know; their life was prayer and ritual, after all.

Adaraka tilted his head, interested in the conversation. “It is up to Kalahira to take us across the sea to the afterlife,” I said. “The understanding is that the prayer stones we offer are to help her part the soul from the waters more easily.”

“Ah. Judgement from a God is an odd concept for most turians to swallow,” said Luciril. “No offence intended.”

“None taken. Death and loss are …different, to most Laharians,” I replied, gesturing to the tags. “I once had to hold a memorial service for my own father, just so others could mourn for him in their own way. When he was alive he told me-”

_-maybe our people need something similar,’ he said. I barely heard him over the shrieking children that played near us, Zakera’s Park awash with the light of the Widow’s star. ‘It is good to share memories. Perhaps there even was such a day once, lost in the deserts. Not all-_

“-I’m sorry for you loss,” he said, filling in the gap I had left in my silence. I did not recall the memory out loud, but still it lulled the conversation.

We had remained by the Spirit stone. I moved on towards the exit, back to the present. “My mind wandered off, my apologies,” I said. He had taken my silence for sorrow. Perhaps it was, by a turian’s standards.

“Nothing to forgive. This place is meant for reflection, detective. Take your time and linger, the Spirits do not mind.”

I cleared my throat. “From my observation it appears there is no correct procedure to grieve. No one gets it right, so to speak- no matter the species.”

Adaraka finally broke his silence. “Two and half weeks.” Both Luciril and I were bewildered by the statement. “That’s what you get for bereavement leave,” he said, explaining. “You can take extenuating circumstances on top of it, but it won’t be paid.”

Ah, turians. _Here is your mandated grieving period. Please respect your boundaries._ Of course, I am not one to judge; I can’t, since my methods to cope involved burying my past in new memories. “Three weeks for C-Sec,” I murmured. “Not many take it. Work is an excellent cover.”

“Hmm, well. Speaking as a historian, the concept is not so difficult. That any one of us survived is enough,” said Luciril. We knew what he meant; the names carved on the tags spoke for him. “That is the turian Spirit, as a whole. Pull back, recover our loss and continue. We survived, we go on. We must.”

I don’t know how much of the drell psyche had changed on the journey from Rakhana to Kahje, but I saw enough to understand that the echoes of it still shaped my people. “We honour our dead by existing,” I said. “It’s hard for other races to buy, they find it callous. Even as a body is placed into the water and the soul has long departed, a fraction remains, since I can’t forget them. They still exist in the universe, because of my memories.”

“Like the Spirits,” said Luciril. His fingers reached out to right a wooden label near the monolith, cutting through the orange of a holo. A futile effort, considering how tangled it was. “They transcend us in collective memory, never the other way around.”

“Very much. The dead may have passed on, but they still resonate around us. They still speak.” It was my job to listen to them, loud and clear. I was a homicide detective, after all.

“How, exactly?” Adaraka asked. His subvocals chafed at the edge of his patience, annoyed at the conversation. “I’d be worried if they did. Especially since we-” he stopped himself, considering his company. “Well. The dead can’t speak, is all. At least I haven’t heard.”

I smiled. “Now we’re getting outside the realm of my understanding, detective, but yours is a common enough argument back on Kahje. ‘The young look to the endless horizon to speak, while the old stare at the shore to hear,’ or so the saying goes.”

“Right, yeah,” he said, narrowing his eyes. Adaraka had reached his fill of our philosophising and was desperate to leave. “That oldie. Was on the tip of my tongue.”

“Well, on that note.” I was amused by his sarcasm, despite the reverence of my words. “We’ll depart for now.”

I held out my hand for Luciril to shake, and I found myself touching my middle fingers to his wrist, as I would a drell. Some habits could never be broken. “I wish our circumstance for this meeting would be different,” Luciril told me. “You’re an interesting man to talk to, Detective Krios. Please, don’t be a stranger.”

We were left alone by the main entrance, and soon as we were outside, Adaraka relaxed. He did not like to linger so close to the Spirits, it seemed. “That was a weird interview, Krios.”

“Oh? We established a possible alibi for the historian, should the vid feeds corroborate his story.”

Adaraka shrugged. “Well, yeah. But we could’ve done all that without the Spirit talk.”

He was more unnerved then he let on. “You forget I’m an outsider here. I was interested to see what a pillar of your community thinks about the missing children- a bit of a snob, our historian. I also got the impression no one is holding out any hope in finding them.”

Ourselves included, I wanted to say, but I didn’t have to. “You mean all that stuff he said about about moving on to recover? Yeah, I’ve heard it enough. But try telling that to the families.”

“I’ll see for myself tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll interview them then.”

“I suggest you take one of us when you go. Sully, Galnius and Terix have been dealing with them more than me, they might be more open to talk if they’re around. No offence.”

“None taken.”

The rest of my day seemed simple enough. I could go back to my terminal and read reports, or I could put my hours to better use. “I’ll check the alibi for the historian now, if the station can loan me a skycar,” I said. “You can chase up your lead on the rifle, time is of the essence.”

“Done and done,” he replied. “My contact has gotten back to me, just in time.” His hand clapped on my back and I startled at the touch. “I’m off to see a krogan about a varren. Talk to Galnius about getting transport, he’s on the front desk ‘til six.”

Adaraka walked away with a wave. I was on my own now, relieved I could operate alone. One day I would find a partner I could tolerate working with all day; stranger things have happened, I suppose.

 


	6. Distracted

EPITEIA MAIN STREET, DAY ONE.  
_17:32 pm_

I jogged back to the station in my armour, despite the odd looks. Galnius sat at his desk when I entered the station, hands clasped in front of him. He really was petite for his kind; I could look him in the eye when he stood up, even if I was tall for a drell.

“Detective Investigator,” he said, brow raised. “What can I do for you?”

“Transport. I have something reserved, according to Adaraka.”

It was as if I told him it was Unification Day. Galnius sighed in happiness and clapped his hands, relieved to be off desk duty. “Follow me,” he said, closing his post with a flourish of his omni-tool. “I can show you the garage.”

“Please do.”

His happiness continued as we walked outside. Galnius seemed to have a face built for smiling, as much as a turian could have one. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” he told me, gesturing to the skyline. “Can see the pits of Iritum, the biosphere has cleared up for us.”

There was a basketball hoop installed in the courtyard when we reached the hangar, and it was predictably in use. The pair using it, however, were clearly not cops.

A tall male human held up a tiny turian girl to the basket, laughing as she threw the ball into the net. I knew who they were- part of Captain A.D’s family, the ones from the holo in her office.

The ball was thrown at me one handed as soon as soon as the human saw us. I caught it just in time, annoyed at the gesture. “Interesting,” I said.

“Nice catch,” he replied, nodding. “You play?”

I passed the ball to Galnius with a brow raise. He grinned and took the shot instead, bouncing it just off the rim. “Ah, bother.”

The little girl tugged the human’s shirt before he could do anything else, begging for a safe place to hide. “It’s okay, sweetpea,” he said, forehead against hers. “He’s a new detective that’s helping mom find your school friends.”

I couldn’t exactly offer him a hand in greeting, thanks to his armful of squirming child. “Well, I’ll keep out of your, ah, hair,” I said. Impressive hair it was too; he had cables of the stuff tied back from his face, almost as solid as a turian’s fringe. “I need access to the garage.”

“And we’ll keep out of your cowl,” he said, smiling back. “Or frill, in your case. Come on, let’s go get you a tupari from the canteen,” he said to the girl. “Don’t tell your mom.” I heard a trill of excitement from his daughter- that was one hell of an offer to a five year old, no matter the species.

Galnius smiled as they left, hands on his hips. “Nice guy,” he said. “Captain’s husband. He comes here sometimes after he picks the kids up from school.”

Never in a million light years would that happen back in Zakera. The precinct was not a place to bring your children, not if you could help it. “I see,” I said. “Which skycar, please?”

He managed to smile wider somehow and gestured for me to follow. “Calibrated this one myself,” he said, patting the roof on an unmarked skycar. “Go steady with the speed, she’s a beauty. Feel free to drive it back to where you’re staying. Captain A.D has it marked for your use, anyway.”

“Good to know,” I said, sliding into it with a sigh. I crossed my arms as the haptic interface gauged my height and weight, the seat sliding up in a hiss. As soon as the panel flashed green, I pulled down the barrier.

“She’s just your standard X3M, though I boosted the contragravity propulsion unit a little for a smoother ride, managed to balance out the thrusters by 2.3%. Not much, but it shaves a little of the bumps out,” he said, jerking his thumb to the engines. “Trust me, she’ll fly pretty, no matter how hard you turn.”

“That’s …thorough.” Galnius still hadn’t moved and watched me as I flicked my hands over the controls. “Thank you for your help, sergeant.”

“You come to me if the old girl gives you trouble.”

He still hadn’t moved, even when I looked away to program my route. “Anything wrong?” I said, finger over the ignition.

It took a while for him to take the hint, but he patted the skycar one last time. “Oh! Right. Let you get on. You have a good evening.”

“Thank you again,” I said, forcing a smile on my face. Gods save me from obsessive turians, I was surrounded.

The station’s database listed Tulnea Calanion with an address, but I would try the Lifebearer Brigade HQ at the centre of town before I left for the outskirts; it took me literal minutes to find it and park.

The door was an old fashioned push and pull, an odd choice for a colony. A chime announced my arrival, and I glanced around at the piles of donated clothes and furniture. This place was the turian equivalent of Kahje’s Healing Waters and the Galactic Red Cross, and was in heavy use.

There was a mustiness that choked my frills and I pinched my nose to stop a sneeze. I recognised a box of supplies from my time with the refugee camps on the Citadel; basic packs of aid that were still needed, even six years after the war.

No one was in the store. I was halfway across the floor until I realised that the pile of clothing stacked on the side was the oldest turian I had ever seen in my life, camouflaged by the donations stacked around her chair. She reminded me of the trees I saw barely an hour ago in the Watchtower, all mottled hide and gnarled plates.

“Forgive me, I didn’t realise there was anyone here,” I said, startled by the movement. I really didn’t think she was who I needed, but I had to say something. “I’m looking for Tulnea Calanion, is that you?”

“Oh, lovely,” she replied, clearly not hearing. Her voice was as cracked as her face plates. “Have you come to help?”

“Be with you in a minute!” I heard from the back room, and I flicked my coat into shape; this place had made my scales itch.

“You’re foreign,” said the old woman. “Do they let aliens on Epiteia now?”

“Mom!” A middle aged woman chuffed, joining us now, clearly related to the other turian. She was dowdy for her kind and had an armful of boxes to put down before she reached us. “Ah, sorry. Um, my mother is- she’s, uh-”

I cleared my throat. No one that old would change their views, no matter what I said. “Not an issue. I’m DI Krios of C-Sec’s Investigation Department, here on behalf of Epiteia Police and Security.” I flashed my ID with a flick of my omni-tool. “Are you Tulnea Calanion?”

“That’s me, dear,” said the old woman between us. “Call me Mavia.”

Her daughter held out her hands in apology. “It’s me you want, but give me a moment,” she said, going to the older woman. “Your hearing implants are off, Mom. Why do you fiddle with them so much?”

Tulnea held a glowing omni tool over her flinching mother, a diagnostic program open. “Would you stop your fussing,” said Mavia. “I don’t like it when they whine, you’re making them buzz again. Your father knew how to fix them, you don’t. Go ask the nice drell if he wants a kava.”

“Dad’s not ali- here, remember?” she replied. “I apologise about my mother,” her voice was low now. “You’re her first, ah, drell,” and Tulnea’s eyes practically begged me for forgiveness.

“I’m used to it,” I said. “It is no problem.”

“No he’s not,” said Mavia. Clearly, the implants were working. “When we were on Illium we met drell, do you remember? You played with them all summer, they almost made you sick when you tried their food. Beautiful children, lovely scales.”

I tried not to flinch at her words. She described my people as if they were pets. Tulnea flicked me another look of apology, aware of the unsaid. “You’re right. Funny you remembering all that.”

Mavia beamed, happy to be proved right. “You was only six. They were called Enna and Tulon. Such pretty things.”

They looked at me like I was supposed to know who they were. I raised a brow. “Sounds like you had a delightful time,” I said, jaw tight from a fake smile.

The old woman patted the arm of her chair, still pleased with herself. “I never forget a thing.” Tulnea rolled her eyes at her mother. Apparently, she disagreed.

“Do you have somewhere we could talk?” I asked her.

Tulnea gestured with a jerk of her head towards the counter, away from her mother. “Sorry about that,” she said, glancing at the older woman. “It’s peculiar, she can recount memories of her childhood with a talon click, but can’t remember what she had for lunch. Anyway. What can I do for you?”

“It only concerns a small matter. Just a few questions to help with our enquiries towards a murder investigation.”

“Oh!” she said, hand to her keel. “Is anything wrong?”

I placated her panic. “I’m here for a witness statement, nothing more. Where were you during the hours of seven and ten this morning?”

There was always a perk to interviewing turians. Tulnea never even questioned why I had connected her to the Abtion case, though clearly she was rattled I had asked. “Give me a moment. I’m not my mother, but I haven’t had my afternoon kava.”

“Take your time.”

Her omni-tool was opened, and I could see her scroll through her alerts and the calendar function. “I was on my way here to-”

The door slammed open and swallowed her words. Both of us turned to watch as a flustered young turian my age entered the store, datapad clutched in his hands. “Tulnea! It’s an emergency.”

“What is?” she asked. It was said in a resigned sigh, and I got the impression that this was a regular occurrence.

“You got any fabric?” He took one look at me, then shrugged. Clearly I didn’t matter.

“What for?” Tulnea said, baffled by the question.

“The banners for Unification Day. Thought we could pretty up the street for the parade. Come on, I know you have the goods, Tuls.”

Tulnea was as annoyed as me at the interruption. “Ferox Gallus, watch your manners.” His words still made her pause, however. “What’s wrong with the holos?”

“You can’t see them from a distance, not on the generators we run,” said Ferox. “Maybe we could cut up the emergency blankets? Nobody needs them now.”

“What? Yes they do. Blankets are for blankets!”

“Hello dear,” said Mavia, smiling at us all. She had no idea what was going on. “Have you come to help?”

“Don’t be mad that I have ideas and you don’t,” he said, after greeting Mavia. “What about you?”

The newcomer was talking to me, I realised. It was always a gamble to interview people at their work; interruptions like this would invariably happen, and I finally lost my patience. “What about me?”

Ferox chuffed, annoyed I refused to answer him. “The banners, man! Good idea, or no?”

Tulnea was indignant; rudeness towards an officer of the law was a step too far for her. “Don’t you bring _him_ into your nonsense. He’s all the way from the Citadel, you know.”

I had reached my limit of inane provincial garbage and flashed my ID again. “I’m in the middle of an interview with Ms. Calanion. My thoughts on banners, blanket or otherwise, can wait,” I said, putting on my politest of smiles. “Perhaps we could go somewhere more private?” I asked her.

“It’s no use,” she told me. “If I don’t give him something, he won’t go away.” She went behind the counter and pulled out a large bundle of bed linens. I caught the scent of stale bodies as she handed them over, and memories of the refugee camps came flooding back.

_-please just something to eat,’ she said, dirty hands gripping my uniform. ‘It’s for my children-_

“You’re a lifesaver,” Ferox said, practically skipping out the door with his bounty. “Knew I could count on you. You’ll see, I can make something beautiful.”

In some ways, his distraction had helped. Tulnea Calanion was calm enough for me to ask the questions again, and this time I got my statement. Turned out the Historian was telling the truth and I got his alibi, and I thanked both of the Calanions for their time before I left.

“I like him,” I heard Mavia say as the door closed. “Such lovely scales.”

If this was a normal day and I had worked my shift as planned, right now I would be facing the end of it. Since I started this case early, I didn’t know what to do with myself- other than going back to the station to face the monotony of reports and reading.

Before I could think about anything else, a tall, tan plated turian caught my eye. He lingered by an impressively bland Z-7, and I leant against the shadows of the Lifebearer HQ to work out why he was bothering me.

He began to move away from his vehicle, a slow meander along the main road. If I wanted to tail him, I had to be careful; I knew what he was as soon as he was free of the skycar, despite his colonial civvies.

It was always the shoes and the gait that gave a Blackwatch guard away. Military grade boots were hard to pry away from those used to them, even when they had to go undercover.

I trailed him from the other side of the street, curious now why he was here. I didn't believe for one second he was a native of Epiteia and something felt off about this; what interest did the turian's answer to a skilled special ops force have in this colony?

He put a finger to the side of his head, a sloppy gesture for an undercover agent. There was a commline there, and he was listening to something.

Who, though? _Why was he here?_

I would’ve found out more if a bullet hadn’t stopped me. I felt the crumbs of the wall graze my fins as it missed, ears ringing from the roar of the shot.

My omni-tool was open in an instant, pistol unholstered with a snap. “VITA call the station, 805 at my location,” I said, naming the code for officer under fire. “I am in pursuit by foot. Unknown assailant, no visual.”

“Understood.”

The shot had come from the roof tops, it had to. I could see a flash of the gun in my memory, white and green- a Viper? The person carrying was obviously stealthed. Too short for a turian from the angle, but why did they shoot me?

I was running before I knew what I was doing, heading into a food store opposite the road. Whatever pretence I had for tailing Sere Blackwatch was gone, and I was now intent on pursuing my shooter.

“C-Sec, let me through,” I said. Unlike the rough ration depots I was used to, this one was free of protective glass and armed guards, and I vaulted over the counter before the shopkeeper could say anything.

“Open!” I yelled at the poor woman. She took one look at my pistol pointing at the door behind her and flailed. “I’m C-Sec. Just open the damn door!”

She did so with a flash of her onmi-tool. “Please don’t shoot-” she started, but I had ran through the storage room to find my way up.

I took the steps three at a time to get to the roof, forcing the skylight open with a kick. As I reached the top, I was alone. Of course I would be.

“Son of a bitch,” I said, holstering my pistol so hard the magnet strip nearly splintered.

My ears still rang from the missed shot. “Krios?” I heard through the commline. It was Adaraka; he had answered the call out first.

There was literally nothing around me. I checked the roof again, hand over my gun just to make sure; not even a skycar went by. The Blackwatch agent I tried to tail had left the scene, leaving me with a double handful of nothing.

Did Blackwatch watch me from here as I watched them? Unless they employed midget turians now, I had to wonder if the shooter was even connected.

“Lost them,” I said, kicking an empty Paragrade can. This place looked like it was used by the staff on their breaks, and I wondered who else had access. “Subject was 170 cm and stealthed, it’s all I got.”

“I’m a couple of clicks away, can scout the radius from you. You injured?”

“Nope.” I put my hands on my hips to stare at the rings of Iritum, willing myself to calm down. “I was shot at from the rooftop of the ration station,” I said, keeping out the Blackwatch part. “They’re long gone.”

“Well, shit,” he said. “Someone wants to shoot you? Shocking.”

That made me snort, at least. “I’m sure I could scrape together a list.” I had moped enough, and set my omni-tool to bioscan mode since I had a perp to find. Predictably there was plenty of turians; considering that the store used the roof as breakroom, hardly surprising.

But my attacker was shorter- had to be, from the angle of the shooting alone. Whoever they were also knew how to fool a basic CSI scan, and have access to expensive stealthing devices.

“Wouldn’t you know it. There’s been a call in for an angry drell holding up the store at gunpoint. Perp claimed he was from C-Sec,” said Adaraka. Of course the bastard was amused. “I wonder what happened there?”

“You’re hilarious.” I walked to the edge of the roof, trying to work out my attacker’s route. Where did they go? The only way was through the store, or over the edge. Did they have a skycar parked close? Jumpjets, maybe? I sighed, annoyed at the loss. “I’ll go get a statement from the staff.”

“DI Krios!” called Galnius from the street. He gave a cheerful little salute when he saw me on the roof. It seemed the entire station had turned out, climbing out of their flashing X3Ms; Sully and Terix had even begun to set up a perimeter, pushing away curious bystanders. “You okay, lad?”

I shrugged my answer. “Go ask around the stores if they heard anything,” I said. “Nothing up here. Not even a heat trace.”

After I had placated the staff and met up with Adaraka, Captain A.D joined us, her battered skycar parked down the road.

Captains were rarely on CSI duty, especially desk jockeys like A.D. As she approached, I noticed a child’s hand print of something suspiciously sauce-like staining her armour. Captain A.D wiped the mark off as much as she was able to and chuffed.

“Report,” she said, through a gritted jaw.

I finished uploading a witness statement before I spoke, closing my omni-tool with a snap. “I was shot at. I tried to chase my attacker. They disappeared before I could reach them.”

“Got the call out from Krios’s fancy VI at 18:54,” said Adaraka. “I checked the area around us, found nothing.”

“You’re certainly making yourself known around here.” Captain A.D narrowed her eyes at me. “Anything else to add?”

“Not really,” I replied. The three of us stared at a dent on the wall left by the bullet. “Sergeant Galnius is on door to door. I gathered a few statements from the ration depot. No one saw anything, but a few heard the shot.” And they knew it was a gunshot, too. The war saw to that.

“Hmm.” She fussed with the bangles at her wrist, frowning still. “I assume CSI has been called in for the ballistics.” We both confirmed with a nod. “From the roof, you say? Are you sure?”

It took all the patience I had left not to snap back. “Should my testimony not be enough, I’m sure there’s something on a vidfeed somewhere,” I said, looking away. All captains seemed to have that _I’m not angry, just disappointed_ tone mastered, no matter the species.

Adaraka had set up a holo projection around the bullet hole from his omni-tool, looking up from his measuring to speak. “Rifle looks like. Surprised they missed, good vantage point from up there. Whoever it was was a lousy shot.”

All Captain A.D could do was stare at me, face politely neutral. “Anything else to add?” she asked.

“Galnix is getting the vidfeeds from all the stores now. Should be something,” said Adaraka, taking another picture of the scene.

“Is this related to the case?” she said.

The snark fell out of my mouth before I could stop it. “I didn’t actively ask to be shot at, no.”

“You didn’t answer me.” Her mandibles tightened to her face, annoyed. “This is my jurisdiction, and you fall under it- that was the agreement we had with the Council. I take threats to my officers very seriously, DI Krios. What happened?”

I coughed before speaking, despite the dress down. “I had taken a witness statement from a Ms. Tulnea Calanion of the Lifebearer Brigade concerning the Abtion homicide at 18:15, and was on my way back-” -a lie, really- “-to check the evidence at the station before I was shot at. The shooting happened at around seven.”

“Anything on your attacker? The call out was vague.” I didn’t mention the Blackwatch agent. Something told me not to.

“The perpetrator was cloaked, though I caught a glimpse of their weapon- I would guess at a Viper. They were around 170 cm tall, give or take. I assumed they were not turian, going by the height alone.”

Her subvocals thrummed her displeasure. “I think we’re done here,” she told me. “I shall speak to you tomorrow in the incident room. Come in early, and I expect a report in my mail when I wake up.” She walked away but turned on her heel to speak before she left us. “Oh, and DI Krios? Have the rest of the night off.”

All this fuss over one bullet. Story of my life, obviously. “Son of a bitch,” I hissed, rubbing at my fins as she went back to her skycar.

Galnius ambled over as soon as A.D left, his omni-tool lit up. “Evening detectives,” he said, smiling at us both.

I would bet half my paycheck he waited until his captain had left before he approached, if only to avoid the paperwork trail. “Get anything?” I said.

“Well, yes and no- there’s been a bit of bother. Turns out someone used a scrambler in the area, even the skycars were knocked out. All the cameras in a thousand metre radius took a nap for five minutes. Clever little bastard, whoever it is.”

Adaraka looked at me and flared his mandibles in surprise. It was a very expensive trick to pull off, even if a hack was synchronised. That would mean an accomplice or a skill set of damping few were capable of. “Convenient,” I said.

“Just about,” replied Adaraka. Despite the use of military grade tech, he was right; the shooter had a lousy aim. I brushed off dust fragments from my shoulder, still lodged in the folds somehow.

The bullet had landed over a metre away from where I had been. My attacker had a perfect location from the roof of the store and still missed. The shields of my tech armour never even registered the shot.

“Ah, thrice fuck this,” I said. “I’m going back to my prefab. You chased up the rifle from this morning?”

“I got nothing,” said Adaraka. “Either it’s destroyed or still in the area somewhere, it’s not turned up in the usual smuggling holes. Sully’s keeping an eye on most of the extranet’s auction sites, but I reckon it’s not off world yet.”

Another lead dropped. Did I have to do everything? “Gods damn it.”

I was stopped with a shoulder tap from Adaraka before I could leave. We stood by the flickering holotape of the scene’s perimeter, an unofficial station meeting in the middle of the street.

“Officers Sully, Terix- you’re waiting for CSI,” he said. “Sergeant Galnius and Detective Krios are off duty. I got reports to log back at the station if you need me.”

Sully shrugged. “Figured.”

“You going to be okay alone?” Adaraka asked me.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I got my tin of se’aus out and pinched off a thumbnail’s worth.

He cleared his throat. “I just mean, ah. You can always stay with someone, just in case. I have a spare room.”

Spare me the embarrassment of this conversation, Arashu I beg you. “No.”

Adaraka rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just you’re all the way out there by the lake, and-”

“Flirting again, detective?” I replied. Terix snorted and leant against his skycar. The fussing rankled now, and put the se’aus under my lip, desperate to leave.

He sighed, then chose his words carefully. “Just an offer. Someone just tried to kill you. I mean, you can always stay with Sully instead, if it’s a turian thing.”

“Say what now?” said Sully, eyes darting between us. She stepped back so she could look at us all without straining her neck, tiny human that she was. “Erm. The place isn’t really tidy for a guest, but the couch-”

“No. Thank you,” I said so tightly I could feel the hiss in my throat.

“What about Galnius? He lives near that prefab of yours,” said Terix. His brown eyes looked me up and down; I was still dirt under his talons, it seemed. “If you’re lucky, you can play with his toys. He’s got quite a collection.”

Sully snorted at that, then nudged her partner with her shoulder. “Hey, they’re models, not toys. Maybe he’ll let you press the button that makes the Watchtower ring.”

“Always room at the House of Galnius,” said the sergeant in question, refusing to have his hobby shamed. “You’re more than welcome, DI Krios. I have a miniature model of the colony I work on, that’s what these buggers are teasing me for. I’m trying to get a working space station, but the anti-grav batteries refuse to integrate themselves into the circuit and I’ve already had two blow outs trying.”

I had reached my limit; it was time to remind them why I was here. “Today has been a strange day of introducing ourselves,” I said. “I know we were all meant to meet tomorrow, but circumstances brought us together earlier thanks to the murder.”

Adaraka cleared his throat. “That, ah, still doesn’t explain the shooting.”

Out of the corner of my eye, Officer Terix smirked. “I’m here because I have a case to lead,” I said, pointedly ignoring him. “Tonight I will go over every scrap you have written, every vidfeed and interview you have made so far just to see why all of you couldn’t find three children. Do you have anything else to add?”

All four of them stood up straighter. “No sir,” said Officer Sully.

“Excellent. See you tomorrow, 0800 hours. Good night, officers.”

“For you maybe,” Terix had muttered, just loud enough for me to hear, even though I was walking away. “Some of us have to stay up for the CSI.”

Much as I would love to drag Terix by the cowl and rub his nose in it, I really had enough. “So. This a normal day for you?” asked Adaraka, not quite getting the hint of what ‘good night’ meant. “Because I would be on my second glass of Drossix Blue by now.”

I shoved myself into the skycar and clicked down the barrier before speaking. “This is not the first time I’ve been shot at,” I said, starting the engines. “Won’t be the last, either. I can handle myself. Good night, Adaraka.”

Famous last words, I suppose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the_wrote for the comma chopping and Blackwatch wrangling, and to Biglou for naming Ferox!


	7. Long Distance

VICTORY RISE, DAY ONE.  
_19:37 pm_

When my hours were done in C-Sec, I put on my jacket and went home- even if I was shot at. Sure I’d take call-outs in the middle of the night, but for the most part, my off-hours were mine. Work and life were separated and should remain so when you’re in law enforcement. In theory, anyway.

Oriana and I had fallen into a rhythm the past year, especially since my day shift had aligned with hers. I would come home first, sometimes with rations, sometimes not. We shared dinner if she stayed at mine, and decompressed our workdays together; it was soothing, the routine. Rarely did we go out - we were content with each other.

And then the Austin case thrice-fucked everything.

I was alone here in Epiteia, and I loathed to dwell. I could read in my little static prefab and wonder if I would see the end of a sniper rifle again, or I could go for a run. Besides, a moving target was harder to shoot, and I had a deep rooted suspicion that the ‘lousy shot’ I had dodged was deliberate, Blackwatch or no.

The rings of Eritum glittered above me as I took my second 10k of the day, too vibrant to ignore. It was bright enough to count all ten track marks, shepherded into place by a neighbouring moon. I found myself looking up every so often to stare at them; perhaps colonies had their perks, after all.

The water lapped against the shoreline as I traced the ghost of my morning route. Lakes were still a novelty to me; I grew up surrounded by an endless sea, and I understood the ebb and flow of an ocean. The lake, though terraformed, seemed too eerie, despite the placid horizon.

_-we’re proud of our scenery here in Epiteia, even if most of us don’t swim.’ The captain looked briefly at a report on her table before-_

Hmm, why hadn’t I thought of this? Did I really trust turians to have mounted an efficient search and rescue expedition of the waters? The reluctance they had for the stuff in general was astounding. All races had myths and creatures of the deep, but to turians, it was their nemesis. Though humans frankly had them beat for quantity of stories, which Oriana delighted in explaining while-

 _-and they sing from the water, to lure travellers to their death,’ she said. She had straddled my thighs, and I could feel her shift to_ -

I jogged on, chasing the memory from my mind. I would indulge in it later. Oh, how I would indulge.

“VITA,” I said, poking the interface on my arm. “Cross-reference case number EP-42375 with the word lake.”

Orange lines blurred my vision. “Certainly. There are eight matches. What would you like me to do with them?”

“Send them to my aural link, text to speech.”

“Understood. There, done. Would you like me to do anything else, Detective Krios?”

Even the damn VI misranked me. “No. Fuck off.” VITA’s voice was too chirpy for reports that had words like _dermabrasion_ and _purification_ in them, but she would have to do.

The first was a memo from yesterday, and a name caught my eye. Cosmus Galnius, the police station’s ever smiling desk sergeant, had asked for help. He wanted volunteers to search the lake again. There would be one last investigation of the waters tomorrow, this time twenty kilometres from the centre of the community. I was not surprised that nothing was found so far.

It seemed the previous attempts via drone were thorough enough, and I could find no fault in Galnius’s methods. A diving team would have been preferable, but the long ranged sensors sometimes had better luck, especially in silted water. I would attend the search party tomorrow if I could spare the time, though interviewing the families of the missing would take my priority.

I ran past a familiar house, slower than last time. The same turians waved at me from their garden as they had this morning, though this time they were desperate for my attention. “No! No, no - don’t run off!”

My calves twinged when I stopped; I bounced on my heels to slow the burn. They were lucky to stop me before I made the bend - that was the point where I forced myself to sprint. “Yes?” I said.

The woman put a hand to her chest and exhaled heavily. “You really like to run, huh?” She was short for her kind and dressed in odd, pink clothing that clashed with her yellow colony markings.

Her son was delighted by the chase and giggled, pleased they had caught me. I put him at five years of age, thereabouts; he had his mother’s pale plates, but a darker hide.

“Is there a problem?”

She put her hand on her hips and smiled at me. “I know this is strange to say, but do you want some vegetables? For free, I mean. I have so many and I don’t know what to do with the spares. They’re levo, obviously, I’m not trying to poison you. You’re the only non-turian I’ve seen in months, other than Natasha and-” she paused, then huffed out a breath. “I am aware this all sounds very creepy.”

I raised a brow. “I’ve run past your house a few times,” Precisely five times, in fact, thanks to the journey back to the prefab. They had an odd garden full of lumpy, ugly sculptures I suspected she made herself.

“It’s why we stopped you. I don’t know your schedule or anything, and I thought-” she winced. “Yeah, that doesn’t help me with the creepy, does it? Anyway! Vegetables. I have them. You want some?”

There really wasn’t a right way to respond. “Ah?”

“I have no idea who else to give them to, Natasha won’t accept anymore.” The name sounded either human or asari. Sully, perhaps?

Still, the conversation was not what I had expected when she flagged me down, and I felt myself blink twice before I could speak. “Well. That’s kind of you.”

“Just- wait there a moment, I’ll be back. You’re doing me a favour, seriously.” She practically skipped to her house, pleased.

“Hi.” A small pink vegetable was taken from a tiny pocket and held up to my face. The child did not follow his mother, too curious to follow. He held a tuuli radish; I knew they could dominate gardens if you didn’t control them. Such was the way with salarian plant life.

A crumb of garden dirt fell onto my undersuit and I brushed it off. “My mother taught me not to accept vegetables from strangers. Are you strange?”

“No,” he said, offended.

“That’s good, then.” I let him place the radish in my outstretched hand; it was rude to shun gifts, especially from a child. “Thanks. My name is Kolyat. What’s yours?”

Little talons poked the ridges of his tunic, unsure what to say. “Mom’s getting you more tuuli.”

“That’s, ah, kind of her. Is she nice, your mother?”

“She’s okay.” Damned with faint praise, poor mother.

“Only okay? Surely not.” He looked up at me, green eyes still curious. I don’t mind it when children are ignorant, their questions are innocent enough. They at least can be taught not to be assholes, if you get them early.

“Are you like Blasto’s friend?” he asked me.

Of course he would. Timan Ami, the bane of all drell outside of Kahje. He was the only one of us aliens can name, a bit part character known for playing Blasto’s gadget maker in the vids. No one can remember the actor’s name either; the poor bastard would be eternally Timan for the rest of his life.

“Like Timan, you mean?” I said. “Yes, I’m a drell. I don’t know Blasto, though. I’m a policeman from the Citadel.”

“Oh,” was his disappointed reply. His mother scolded him as he flailed his limbs past her, a box in her hands. “No running in the kitchen!”

“You really don’t have to do this,” I said, accepting the gifted box as it was thrust at me. She had drawn a strange lumpy person on the top, and I hoped by all the Gods it wasn’t meant to be me.

“It’s no problem. They’ll only rot otherwise. I’ve met my food bank quota, you’re doing me a favour. I put some other levo vegetables in there. It’s not all tuuli, don’t worry. You can keep the box too, saves me from recycling it.”

“You’re very kind, thank you.” I looked at my bounty; I could see asari maeta, human tomatoes and a bunch of greens that could be from anywhere. “I’m Kolyat Krios, I’m down the road from you. Not sure how long I’ll be here, but pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I know. My brother said.”  
  
_Brother?_ “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“I never gave it. I’m Mora Galnius.” That answered that, then. I looked behind her, beyond her odd garden with ugly ornaments; I really did not want to talk with an officer from work, not now.

“Is he around?” I asked.

“Nah, he lives on the other side.”

I smiled, relieved of a social burden. “I’ll see him tomorrow, anyway.”

We were interrupted by the thumping feet of her son, and a toy was shoved into my hands. I recognized Captain Jane and The Guardian nestled in his cowl; the pair told the children of the galaxy to brush their teeth and to be kind and helpful, amongst other things. Their holos were everywhere and inescapable.

“This is Kane Laconic. He has cool swords.” I examined what he gave me. It looked roughly like a drell, but no one I would know. Ridiculous shades were stuck to his face and his obnoxious armour clashed hideously with his scales; if I was his age, I would eat it up, no question. “Do you have swords?”

My father’s _mitza_ dagger hung on the wall above my bookshelf. That one he never used for his work, too pretty to bloody. “No,” I said.

“I wait in the shadows, you are soon dust,” the lump of plastic chirruped. I almost dropped it.

_-we all become dust in the end, Kolyat.’ He put his hand on mine, and I wanted to pull away. ‘Entropy does not have to win if the mark we make in this world leaves a-_

Small talons yanked the toy back. “Ah, sorry,” I said, loosening my hold. “Lost in my thoughts.”

“Kae! He loves those damn things,” his mother said, by way of apology. I shifted the box awkwardly against my hip. “He talks about them to anyone who listens.”

“No harm done.” I could see he was desperate to ask me questions again, but knew he could not interrupt his mother. She placed a gentle hand behind his crest and Kae fidgeted under the touch, toys clutched to his chest.

Mora looked between us, hesitant. “Are you- you’re here to help with the missing children, right? My brother works at the station, he mentioned you. Said someone from the Citadel was coming to help.”

It was a subject her son was familiar with. He stared at his feet, aware of the importance. “I went to school with Juvus,” he told me, not looking up.

“Hush, Kae.”

I looked at him; I wasn’t letting this go, even if his mother wanted to. “Is he a friend?”

Is, not was. Kae nodded. “He has bigger feet than me. We share a table at school. He’s good at math.”

Children focused on the smallest of observations, and often made the better witness for it. I find the memories of other species fascinating; turians and human children were almost eidetic with detail, but as they got older, the ability goes.

“What does the school say about Juvus?”

He focused on fiddling with his toys, nervous at the question. I never meant to make him anxious, but I was curious. “That he’s missing and that we should help find him if we can.”

“We help out with the search parties,” Mora said, watching her son carefully. “All his class do.”

I thought it was a very turian response; I knew the community would grieve and move on faster than most, according to the Historian I had interviewed; it was warming to hear there were those that still gave a damn enough to fight it.

_-our memories absorbed into Spirit stones, the ripples go on-_

“That’s good to hear,” I said. “I shall try to attend tomorrow’s lake drudging if I can.”

“Ugh, Cosmus is crazy about driving that carrier of his in the water,” she said. “But every bit helps, you know?”

“Indeed,” I said. “Thank you for the food. I should take this back.”

I ended up walking back to my prefab; jogging with a box full of vegetables was hardly an efficient way to run a 5k. I left a portion of tuuli to soak in the sink while I heated up an MRE, listening to the audio files of the interviews of the families I would see tomorrow.

They were the usual stressed, grieving responses, but a couple caught my attention; one parent keened her grief as I ate my dinner, and I paused the audio to let the memories of it sink in. “I just took my eyes off her a moment. I was baking plenta for the Lifebearer Brigade donation drive- I had to get them all done, we had to be ready to leave soon.”

I checked the file as the interview continued; it was Icina Duvitus who spoke, mother of Plivia. She was precise and clipped, despite her obvious distress. “Pliva was- she was playing with her friends. I don’t know why she’s gone, why has she gone?”

Raw tuuli radish and lukewarm grunnen stew do not mix, but I had to finish it. “Who were the friends?” Detective Adaraka asked her; he had led most of the interviews. So far he had asked exactly what was expected, but I still did not have all the details together yet to work out if they were the _right_ questions.

“Ah, the Aberdas girl, and the little boy down the road. I saw them and thought they were sweet, they were all holding hands.” It was interesting she didn’t know their names; surely you would know your children’s friends-

_-the Historian was given my best ‘please continue’ smile. ‘The kids all played games together, so I was told,’ he replied. ‘The girls would fight over who would play Jane-_

Adaraka leaned to the theory they were grabbed together, going by his report. Some witness statements from other families put the children in different places at the time of the disappearance, which made me wonder why he had thought this.

“Can you think of anyone who would harm you, or wish to harm your family?” Adaraka asked her.

“No. I- no. We have friends here, everyone has been so kind, we were happy. Pliva didn’t even cry at night anymore, I said she could play outside and would be safe. I- oh Spirits, this is my fault, my fault-”

I played another file. This time the subject had a rougher Palaven dialect; male, middle-aged. It was the kind I was used to hearing at the station, both from my colleagues and the perps we arrested. “I was fixin’ the skycar, piece of shit Elkoss thrusters were off again,” he said. “I saw the kid, the one with the stuck up mother, the Duvitus bitch.”

“Can you remember her name?” asked a female voice. Officer Sully was leading this interview; despite the casual misogyny, she kept an even tone to her questions.

“What, the mother? Icina, I think. Anyway, her brat was walking back down the road alone, and she was carryin’ something.”

“What was it?” asked Sully. I could hear something being moved in the file, some kind of rustling.

“Looked like a pistol, a toy maybe. Kids are always playing Spectres, ain’t they? It was around noon. I knew it was, because I saw the time on my omni-tool, I was runnin’ a diagnostic for the thrusters. You wanna look? I saved the data.”

“What about the other two children? Did you see them?” I heard a click of a datapad. I guessed Sully had shown them their holos.

“No. Just the bitch’s kid. ”

The discrepancy between the statements was not uncommon for a case like this. The memory of other races were faulty, unreliable and frustrating to iron details out of.

I am used to it now, but my career in C-Sec almost came to an abrupt end thanks to my impatience _. Oh no officer, I think it was an asari. No, wait, a human. Definitely a human._

I had a cold beer and a pinch of se’aus to chase my bland dinner, my reward for the day. My mind still could not shut itself off, but I knew I had to clean both myself and the dishes before I went to bed.

Ah, the depths can take the dishes. Beer, wipe down, bed, reports; there we are, evening planned. I could even stay up and read crime scene files in bed, a perk to my isolation. Perhaps I should call Oriana, even though she had shut me out since I left for Epiteia-

_-I’m beginning to associate the smell of that to a naked Kolyat, you know,’ she said, watching me as I cleaned myself. ‘Are you going to stand there,’ I told her. ‘Could use a hand-_

Most drell smelt of some form of anfre oil; we used it to keep the frills of our body clean without water, our original form of soap. I was halfway through wiping myself down when my omni-tool bleeped at me. I had a vid-holo request, but from my own apartment.

If it was T’Lori, he would have his scabby crest shoved through his ass when I got home. I scowled at my portable terminal before answering, undersuit back on in a haste. How did he always ring when I’m in the middle of something, did the bastard have a sixth sense? Was it a special asari mind trick?

Curiosity got the better of me. I’m glad it did, so very relieved to see the face behind the call. “Ori, I wasn’t expecting you. Hello.”

That she had even contacted me was a surprise. We did not part on good terms, despite the emails I sent her after. “Hey, Kolyat,” she said.

I checked the data on the corner the screen. It was the middle of her night cycle; odd that it would sync with mine, so far away. “It is good to see you; I was thinking of you.” She had changed out of her work clothes and was dressed in a looser shirt I knew she slept in. The fact that she was in my apartment instead of hers was …pleasing.

“Going out or staying in?” She took in my half naked appearance with a raised brow; by her shameless staring alone, I decided not to yank my suit up and tied the sleeves around my waist, aware of the effect it had.

“In for the night, tried to go for a run around the lake. A kind family gave me vegetables when I went past their house, said they would only rot otherwise. I have no idea what to do with them all. I had to walk back with a box full of tuuli.”

She smiled. “That’s sweet. You’re in the colonies now for sure,” she said. “The only thing you get for free on the Citadel is abuse.”

I discovered there are people willing to buy and sell just about anything in Zakera, but let it slide. “I can tell you where I’d rather be, but you know.” I tilted my head at the holo; it was my turn to be shameless.

The terminal showed me Oriana curled up on the couch; a blanket I brought from New Mexico fell from her shoulders as she shifted. The past year we had practically lived together at my place, her belongings merging with mine. She said it was purely selfish, that she used me for a faster commute to work and the gym.

We told the oddest lies to each other. “T’lori gave me the number, hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I’m calling from yours, obviously- had to check on the Fish.”

“How is she?”

Oriana smiled past me, looking at what I assumed was the Fish in question. “Asleep, same old. She has a lot of fans, by the way. I keep on getting asked by our friends if they need to feed her. I tell them there’s a VI, but I just think they want to see your weird pet.”

By friends, I assumed she meant my work colleagues. “T’Lori has been, I know. Bastard sent me a vid touching my books.”

“He said. Don’t worry, he put them back in order.”

That was a surprise- Oriana must’ve made Bats feel some semblance of guilt. “I wasn’t sure if you’ve been getting my emails,” I said. “I sent you my contact details yesterday- you didn’t have to speak to anyone from work, I know T’lori can be awkward.”

She seemed hesitant to reply. “Bats is perfectly nice to me,” she said, staring at her hands. “I’ve been getting your mails, I just-” Oriana sighed. “I haven’t mailed back. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I guess.”

I examined her face before I spoke; her eyes seemed hollow, though she had not worn her usual eye paints for the call. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just tired.” She stretched her arms up above her head, and I followed the movement.

It took every bit of my will to force myself not to pump her for information like I would a suspect. “I’m glad you called, anyway.”

Oriana plucked at her shapeless clothes with a snort. “Not as if you’re getting me at my best, you know?”

“I can’t forget whatever it is you give me,” I said. “Literal fact, Oriana.”

“Don’t be facetious.”

“I’m not.”

She scrubbed at her face with her hands. “Right on time with the sass.”

“I’m always happy to see you, you know that.” I changed the subject before she closed the call, even though we both needed sleep. “How’s work? Is the LV-426 project up and running?”

Oriana found people homes for a living, I only put them in jail. For every family she found a place for, ten needed more. Planets that once had a thriving ecosystem were dying of radiation, thanks to the war. The remains of the Reapers might have been blasted into the nearest sun, but they left behind a parting gift.

There was a corruption to deal with that would take years of terraforming to fix; it was a slow, hard process that left a large chunk of the galaxy without homes or food. All I knew is that some nights her work left her maudlin. But then, so could mine.

She breathed out heavily. “Yes, finally. I might take some time to visit the colony, see how it is. They’re calling it Morioh now, LV-426 is a bit of a mouthful.”

I knew she had the vaguest of plans to build a place there, even if it was just a holiday home. The planet had a dry belt of desert land, perfect for drell habitation; I was reluctant to agree to it. Colonies were her business, not mine - my life was the Citadel. “Perhaps I could travel with you if I can get the time off. A vacation.”

Oriana dented her lip with her thumb. I recalled a moment of my own tracing the softness there, how her tongue had licked the pad. “Where you are has just been registered as a level three multi-species habitat. Kellum placed it on my desk this morning, he figured I’d want to know.”

I heard her say the words as the memory faded; she had wrapped her arms around her knees now, face tilted towards me. I cleared my throat before I spoke, a lingering desire coiling my memories still. “Intriguing.”

“Small universe, hey? Out of all the damn colonies.”

There was no such thing as coincidence, not in my line of work. Perhaps in hers there was. “I assume they would need more levo farms for a swelling population.”

She shrugged. “All I know is more mixed refugees are moving there. Interspecies families mainly, mostly turian and asari bondmates, some human. The Hierarchy is using it as a test subject for their xeno-colonial studies; there’s even talk of relaxing the citizenship tiers for aliens, but I’m not sure if that’s true.”

Like Captain A.D and her mixed family; I wondered what part she had played in this. There was more to her than just ‘captain,’ it seemed. “Explains a few things I’ve observed.”

There was a pause as she considered her words. “Speaking of that. Not sure if our company will be outsourced to build tower blocks, but maybe. Kellum asked me to ask you if you had a feel of the place yet.”

Was that really the reason she called? “As what, C-Sec’s DI Krios, or as Kolyat, Oriana’s boyfriend?”

“Both? You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she said. “You’re seeing the place through a cop’s eyes, I suppose. Murder and theft everywhere.”

“Give me time, I’ve only been here three days.” I raised a brow. “Not that it’s unpleasant to see you, but did this holocall only happen because your boss wanted a favour, or…”

Oriana snorted. “Been debating calling you since you left. Been thinking about ditching your scaly arse, too.”

I assumed she was joking about the ditching. “I’ve missed you, Ori. I’ll take whatever mouthfuls of water you’ll give me.”

She looked up and the holo flickered. “Oh for- seriously?” The tilt of her jaw stretched her neck in delicious ways, and before I could get lost in the memory of her scent, she spoke again. “You are aware of the words that fall out of your mouth, right?”

Perhaps it was laid on too thickly, but it was the truth. “Yes. I miss you terribly. A vid call is not enough.”

“ _Urgh._ ” She tugged at her hair, for once pulled back from her bare face. “Why, why am I doing this? Why am I here, in your stupid apartment, talking to your stupid face, instead of doing whatever the hell it is twenty six year old women are meant to do? I’m on the Citadel, for Christ’s sake.”

“I can think of several examples of what happens to those twenty six year old women,” I replied. I felt my own temper rise now, the inevitable sarcasm biting through. “I’ve seen the statistics up close.”

“Yes thank you, Mr. Cop, duly noted. I’ll stay inside and wash my hair, then.” She had curled up her knees flush against her body now, head thumping gently against them. “Why am I still here?”  
  
“Because of my Fish,” I said. She made a strangled laugh, muffled by the curve of her body. “Don’t take it out on her, she’s had a rough day. All that sleeping and eating, it’s exhausting.”

Oriana looked up in a grin, probably towards where Fish lingered. “She let me pick her up today, you know. When you come back she’ll like me more.”

“Only out of spite, I can assure you. Fish is evil, Oriana- you know this.”

There, I had made her laugh again. She was smiling now, and I felt it mirrored on my own face. The pair of us were terrible at working out what we wanted from the other, and I wondered if we ever would.

There was a pause as she looked at me, her eyes tracking mine. I had no idea what she saw through the screen, how she would remember this. “I’m staying the night if that’s okay. Got an early start at work. Not sure I want to though, now that I mention it. Alone with the Fish, _yikes_.”

“Keep one set of eyelids open, she knows where you sleep.”

The thought of her in my bed made me desperate enough to drown in memories of it and her. It was not the sex my mind leapt to, but the routine. Of Oriana putting on her face cream that tasted awful. How her legs kicked the covers free, every night without fail.

How she listened to her quartets and orchestras to fall asleep, always curled to one side. How she leant into me when I joined her if she was still awake, pale fingers wandering just so.

How her lips felt against the spines of my crest when-

Ah. Perhaps it was the sex, too. “I wish I was there. That bed sounds good right now. Mine is-” _empty, alone_ “-hard. A bad mattress.”

“Poor thing,” she said, smiling at me. “I’m sleeping diagonal tonight, just because I can.”

I returned her smile. All I needed was for her to ask me for a memory and I would give it to her; it was our version of dealing with long distance stress relief, and-

_-her voice was low in my ear through the commline; I recalled how her breath felt there instead. ‘And what did I do after that? Hang on, let me just get my shirt off, my bra is-_

“-I said, Fishy is probably annoyed I’ve going to bed early. Your mind wandering again?” Oriana knew it had, she always did.

“Hmm? Fish can get what she’s given.” She smiled at me again and I reacted like the love sick fool I was. “You still holding up okay, or do you need to sleep soon?”

“A bit longer with you is okay.” So much had gone wrong this month between us, but this time it was the physical distance that was the culprit.

“Oriana, I know I was… asocial, this month,” I said. “Especially during the inquiry. I overflowed into you, and you took the brunt of everything.”

The smile dropped from her face. I had said the wrong thing, of course I would. “Knowing you’re an arsehole doesn’t magically fix the fact that you were one.”

I wondered if I had it in me to ditch everything here and run to her; I stared at the table, very much aware the answer was no. There was a case to close here, and I would see it through.

“Perhaps we should have this conversation in person. It’s hard to talk when I’m away like this.”

Her voice was hard now. “You have your work. I _know_.”

Anger bubbled up in my chest; I was trying my hardest not to lash out at her. “It feels like I was sent here as my punishment. I want to be home, with you.” Why did she have to-

_-Bailey’s voice filled my head. His tired eyes ignored me to focus on the scrolling monitors on his VI. “Look, kid, the sooner you solve it, the sooner you can come home-_

“-hard to feel sorry for you when you’re on a health resort,” she said, screwing her face up at me. I missed half of what she said. “How is that a sentence, exactly?”

“I’ve been to a crime scene today. Would you like me to describe the smell of a dead body sitting in bathwater? I can if you like.”

_Bathtub, rifle, legion, missing._

“No. Obviously.” Oriana crossed her legs. I remembered the feel of them against mine and focused on the curve of her neck instead.

“Oriana-” I started to say, but the hololine jerked and flickered and suddenly she was talking over me.

“-I might be away too. I was thinking it would be good to visit my sister. Don’t worry, Fish has plenty of volunteers to look after her.”

The idea of more people in my personal space, touching my things, was enough for me to shake my head. _No_. The fact Oriana wanted to travel to Noveria, however, was more worrying; the jostling animosity between salarian and human relations put her right in the centre of their territories.

“Is that wise? What does Miranda say about this?” She was holding back something; her jaw twitched. “Ori?”

She sighed. “It’s nothing to worry about, this will all come down to nothing. Salarians and humans have too much to lose. Randa’s been talking to a dalatress from a colony near the border- ah, not sure if I should’ve told you that. Pretend I didn’t. Anyway, she’ll let me know when it’s safe to travel.”

“Of course.” I might not see eye to eye with Miranda Lawson, but when it came to Oriana, we were equal partners in obsession. “Good. That’s- good.” I paused, then put my hands behind my back. The movement made her eyes move to the lines of my chest, and she looked away.

We both struggled to find words; so much was off limits. “Still have a week to myself, though,” she said, clearing her throat. “I don’t want to waste it. Feels like I should do something, you know? Maybe I could visit another Ward.”

“You could come here,” I said. “There’s a lake for you to swim in, right outside my door. The night skies are beautiful if you like that sort of thing. The rings dominate the skyline.”  
  
“Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.”

She was never this vague. Arguing with her when we first met was a much treasured memory; she was always so sure about everything, my Ori. “That’s a confusing answer, my love. I have a bed here that is big enough for us both, and-”

The static clicked as she made a noise my translator failed to read, a little human growl of frustration. “For fuck’s sake. You arsehole.”

That was unexpected. “Uh-”

The sleeves of her shirt were used to scrub at her cheeks. Was she crying? “Do you know what pisses me off? I’m furious with you. Whenever I try to explain why I get upset - and it’s annoying because I can’t explain to you precisely why I think you’re an utter bag of cocks right now. You are the only person I know that can infuriate me to the point of inarticulation.”

Humans really did push universal translators beyond their capabilities. “It is not my intention to make you feel that way.” I rubbed my brow, annoyed. I knew she was angry too; Oriana rarely swore. “And you’ve always told me how it is. I always know, Ori. I get it, you’re mad I’m here.”

“ _It's not about that._ ” She made another one of her grumbling noises. “I am not coming to the Castellus system just because you clicked your fingers. This is what you do, Kolyat. You expect me to fit around you, never the other way around.”

I thought she was just as bad at that, for wanting me when it was convenient. We used each other terribly. “It was an offer to spend your free time at a vacation spot with me, not a demand. You might not have to work, but I do. One of us may as well enjoy the scenery while I’m here.”

She gave me a look. “Because your job is more important than mine? That I should drop everything and run because obviously I’m the one that can just do that.”

I was desperate to point out the flaw in her statement. She told me she had free time, and I was only suggesting how to fill it. “But you said-”

“I know what I said. You didn’t listen. There’s a difference between remembering something and actually hearing it. Just- no, I’m done, I’m not arguing with you about memory again. _Fuck_ , Kolyat.”

If only. I knew if we were in the same room, we would be by now; neither of us were brilliant at solving arguments any other way.

“Oriana,” I said her name in one exhale. “I know your work is important, more so than mine. I am merely saying that there is room for you here. If you want to visit, you can come.”

That human growl returned. “I’m going to bed. If you want me, you know where I am.” She looked at me and even through the blue of the holoscreen I could see the fight had gone.

“I miss you,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.

“Night, Kolyat,” she said, gentle and quiet. Her goodbye was at odds with the _fuck yous_ and _bag of cocks_ of her previous words.

That made me feel like a bastard, more so than her anger ever could. “Sleep well, Ori,” I said, to the silence of my prefab. She never heard me anyway.

 


	8. Email Interlude: Day 2

**To:** Detective K. Krios, C-Sec District 12: ZW-3498  
**From** : Commander Bailey, C-Sec District 01: PR-7012  
**Subject:** Heads Up

K,

Vakarian is in charge of your investigation, I just got out of a meeting with him. He wants an interview and soon, expect him to get in contact today at some point. My advice is to be honest.

Heard about the homicide and the shooting. Be careful, Krios.

-Bailey

  
Re: Vakarian: It’s the older one, not the younger.  
Re: Fish: want me to keep an eye on her? Can keep them at mine if your girlfriend is busy, the kids have gone back to their moms.

 

* * *

 

  
**To:** Detective K. Krios, C-Sec District 12: ZW-3498  
**From:** Menetina Abicolus, Epiteia News  
**Subject** : we need to talk

DI Krios,

I’m sorry I doorstepped you yesterday. Don’t worry about the camera drone, I won’t press charges.

But we really need to talk, I don’t know who else to come to with this - it’s big, and I don’t trust anyone at the station. I won’t ask you about the Ward Killer stuff, I promise.

-Abi

_Real knowledge is to know the extent of the ignorance of others. -Viginia Garilus_

* * *

 

  
**To:** Detective K. Krios, C-Sec District 12: ZW-3498  
**From:** CSI Amia Vulis, EP-Sec: 8372  
**Subject** : EP-42375 Autopsy Report [Attached File: _ABTION: 2093-10-5-2_ ]

Detectives,

Please read the attachments before bothering me with questions.

A more in depth ballistic report on the fragments found from the gunshot wound will follow, possibly by the end of the day if the morgue remains quiet.

Don’t ask me about the ballistics at the other scene just yet, there’s a queue. Refrain from getting shot at again, my workload is stressed as it is.

-CSI Vulis

 

=======  
**Epitea Police and Security Services, Coroner’s Office**

DATE/HOUR AUTOPSY PERFORMED:  
5/10/2193, 17:30 pm by Crime Scene Investigator Amia Vulis

Marien Building of Science and Technology,  
Victory Ridge Hospital,  
Epitea

Omni-Tool: _EP23-2dfy6-25f-og79_  
=======

  
**SUMMARY REPORT OF AUTOPSY**

Name:  
ABTION, Kaeruns

Coroner's Case Number:  
2093-10-5-2

Date of Birth:  
6/6/2078

Age:  
115

Race/Species:  
Turian

Sex:  
Male

Date of Death:  
5/10/2193

Body Identified by:  
Pavma Lucilus (historian.)

Case Number:  
EP-42375

Investigative Agency Attached to Case:  
Epiteia Police and Security Services  
Citadel Investigation and Security Services

  
**EXTERNAL EXAMINATION:**

The autopsy begins at 17:02 P.M. on May 24, 2192. The body is presented in a black body bag. The victim is naked, with tattooed colony markings on the upper and lower face plates. Fresh paint was recently applied partially over the tattoos of the lower left mandible.

The body is that of a naked white plated male measuring 212 cm and weighing 90 kg and appears malnourished with the stated age of 115 years. Lividity is fixed in the distal portions of the limbs. The eyes are open. The irises are orange and corneas are cloudy. Petechial hemorrhaging is present in the conjunctival surfaces of the eyes. The pupil slits measure 0.1 cm across, 0.3 cm wide. The brow plates are partially missing from the entry wound, but appear splintered with age. Some spikes of fringe are missing.

The body was found in water, though no signs of maceration are present on the feet and hands; the plates on the lower thighs and tarsus appear somewhat loose. Upon removal of the victim from the bath, an odour of bleach was detected. Areas of the body were swabbed and submitted for detection of hypochlorite.

The genitalia are that of an adult male and remain plated, and there is no evidence of injury. Limbs are equal, symmetrically developed and show evidence of an older injury. The talons are medium length and cuticles are purple. Both are softened from the water. There is evidence of residual scarring around the upper carapace, left spur and lower back from an older injury, suspected shrapnel explosion.

**OPINION:**

Time of Death: Biomarker scan, body temperature, rigor and livor mortis, and stomach contents approximate the time of death between 07:56 am and 8:14 am on 5/10/2193.

Immediate Cause of Death: Gunshot wound to the left temple.

Manner of Death: Homicide.

Remarks: Victim did not face his murderer. Upper body remained above water post mortem. A rough trajectory of the gunshot places the murderer between 5.5 and 6 metres away from the initial murder scene.

 _//CSI Amia Vulis, EP-Sec: 8372_  
_5/10/2193_

* * *

 

 **To:** Kolyat Krios, Personal Email  
**From:** Bateseta “Bats” T’Lori, Personal Email  
**Subject:** FINE TIDDIES [Attached File: _Mating In Mars 3: Land Rover Roving On_ ]

  
KOLLLLLLLLLLL,

So I know you are prolly beating it off right now to a personal home movie of a scandalous ankle flash you remembered as a kid or w/e, but I got you some classy antique tiddies to keep you warm while ur alone.

I got vintage human porn from the 2050s, my dealer came thru. SO MUCH HAIR  
I will send it to your personal extranet (not work cause captain Haron would shit his plates.)

This stuff is not my usual but I can appreciate the art. Srsly bouncy tits tho, humans are squishy. You want MOAR let me know - I got like 3 terabytes. Human dong is weird, I can just send you tiddies. (Especially the classy ones.)

-bats

Ps: oriana is pissed at you hahahahah  
Pps: can I date her after she dumps you. Jk jk!! But if you want pls put a good word in for me when she does

(Oh yeah, Fish is okay. I even cleaned the shit box, the VI stopped working. U R FUKING WELCOME BTW)

 

 


	9. Family Liaison Officers

  
EPITEIA POLICE STATION, DAY TWO.  
 _7:12 am._

Waking after three hours of sleep wasn’t ideal. I buried myself in reports, vids and audio logs of the case, chasing away Oriana with work like I always did.

I could handle it when she was mad. Her face would tighten and her eyes would narrow, and she would breathe out before speaking and tell me exactly what I did that bothered her. She knew I needed to hear it; I could always count on her laying out her anger and hurt in neat little lines for me to read, a ballistics report of our miscommunication.

The past month, however, was different. Ori was still-

_-furious with you. Whenever I try to explain why I get upset. And it’s annoying because I can’t explain to you precisely why I think you’re a-_

No, not now. I pushed her out of my mind. I had to debrief a bunch of colonial cops in two hours to go over why they couldn’t find three missing children.

Not that they were that colonial; I read their files, out of curiosity-

_-You don’t need a file to know about me, Krios,’ said Adaraka, eyes on mine. ‘You can ask me anything. Almost-_

Adaraka got his detective promotion on the strength of breaking up a smuggling ring that had used Epiteia as a drop off point. He even had a letter of recommendation from the system’s Primarch over his military service, which made me wonder exactly why he was stuck here; why wasn’t he in C-Sec or a busier colony?

Despite this, I didn’t know what to make of him or the other officers. Yesterday was a very strange day of introductions, and not entirely to plan. But then, since when did criminals stick to a timetable? Would make my job easier, I suppose.

At least their CSI was efficient. I read Vulix’s report as I brushed my teeth, pleased she had caught things I had missed- namely, the smell of bleach on the victim. My sinuses had literally blown up when the Crucible fired, my gift from the war. The delightful combination of a head injury and a sinus infection dulled my sense of smell; it was not as useful for crime scenes as everyone thought.

I used yesterday’s borrowed skycar to get to the station, and as I pulled into the garage I could see the captain with a basketball in her hands. Her freakishly large human husband was in the same place yesterday, playing with their daughter; it must run in the family.

She glanced at me once and aimed the shot as I joined her, and I wondered if she was waiting for me to arrive. Her pregnancy was obvious now as she stretched her arms up to throw. Her shot landed with barely a whisper into the net. “You’re in early,” she told me, barely looking my way.

There was no chance I was going to let her bend down to pick up the ball in her condition, and walked over to throw it back as gently as I could. “You want to speak here, Captain?”

She turned the ball in her hands. “I assume you have read all the files relating to the case,” she said. “The logs have listed you as accessing them last night. I hope you’re well rested.”

“I found a few discrepancies.” I hid my surprise at being checked up on, wondering if my Extranet searches were looked at too. “I need to interview witnesses again and speak to the families. I would also like to help Sergeant Galnius with the lake drudging later if there is time.”

Captain A.D bounced the ball once. “Our budget only allowed for drones.” Not an apology or defence, but a stated fact.

“They’re usually efficient,” I said, standing next to her now, hands behind my back. “But it doesn’t hurt to check.”

The ball was bounced again, looped from one hand to another. She had to bend awkwardly to go round her stomach, and with a sigh she passed it to me, annoyed at her fumbling. “My maternity leave starts soon,” she said. “I’ve been advised by my doctors not to let undue stress affect the pregnancy.”

I cleared my throat into a fist. “I’m not here to add to your burdens.”

“Quite the opposite, I hope.” She adjusted the seal of her armour, even though it looked flawless; no sticky child’s handprint on it this time. “Well, I’ll let you get to it,” she said, jerking her head to the entrance from the garage. “Keep in touch, please.”

That was an order to go. I placed the ball on a table meant for skycar diagnostics, and walked to the incident room.

Tables were shoved together in an attempt to house the meeting and I decided to set myself up at the head of them. I stacked my datapads in order, aligning them just so.

It was due to start in fifteen minutes. I had read everything I could and worked out what I wanted each and every officer to do. As DI it was my job to lead, but I still couldn’t escape actual police work either. I had to work just as hard as the others; perhaps even harder, considering I had something to prove.

Sully was first to the incident room. It amused me that on a colony run by a race insistent on order and obligation, it was the non-turians who were early to the meeting.

I watched as she set up the drinks and snacks; no cop could endure a debriefing without caffeine and sugar, no matter the race. “I got coffee if you want it, sir,” she said, gesturing to the drink machine. “It has a taste of kava about it, unfortunately. I’ve not been sick yet, anyway.”

Humans and their coffee. At least Oriana was a tea drinker, but her kind still appeared to live on the dreck. “No thank you.”

Bang on the hour the turians turned up. Galnius entered the incident room and headed straight to the snacks with a cheery wave; Adaraka grabbed his kava and waited, leaning against the wall. “Still alive, then?” he said.

“Depends how the meeting goes,” I replied.

Terix sat next to Sully with a sigh, though I watched her slip him a dextro ration bar with a wink. As soon as Galnius had finished making his kava, I started the meeting. “I’ll get straight to it since we’ve all already met. I’ve read the files, but I found some discrepancies. Mainly, a few witness statements that don’t line up correctly. I would like to spend the day double checking them again before we move on.”

Everyone looked polite. I had expected some sort of pushback from pointing out a mistake, but all I got was silence. I cleared my throat and continued. “Who’s your family liaison officer? I see no assigned name in the files.”

I received some very turian blinks. “I’ve had some training,” said Adaraka, reluctant to speak out. “But it’s Officer Terix and Sully who deal with the families.”

Terix shifted in his seat, arms crossed. “Sully more than me.”

I figured as much. Odd that the human officer would interact more with the turian families than the turians themselves. Perhaps her alien nature allowed them to cross over cultural boundaries without fear, something I’ve used to my advantage as a drell; no one knows anything about us.

“Congratulations Officer Sully, you’re now our Family Liaison Officer. You have some bedtime reading to do.”

“Ah, thank you?” she said, baffled by the promotion. Sully fiddled with the end of her braid as I sent her C-Sec’s standard FLO procedure via my omni-tool.

“Don’t. It’s extra work on top of the shit you already do,” I replied. At least that brought a laugh to the room. “Less time at the station I suppose- if you consider that a perk, anyway.”

It was Sergeant Galnius’s turn to be given a job. He was only a desk sergeant, but he had time to work and man his desk.

“What’s this then?” he asked, mouth full of some kind of paste he snaffled from the snack tray.

“You’re on data filtration duties,” I said. “I want you to contact Kaeruns Abtion’s old Legion and find everyone in the holo we found in his living room. Trace all his vidcalls and emails in the past year, CSI released the data this morning. I’m sure you can wrangle that on top of your desk duties.”

He seemed happy enough with the job given; he was an amiable sort, and those usually did well scraping information from agencies and data companies. “Right you are.”

“I’ll also help you out with the lake drudging this afternoon, should I have time. I have a vehicle that can cope around an atmos of 1000 metres, should be okay for the lake.”

Galnius beamed at me. “Would be crackin’ if you could make it. What carrier you got? Must be some kind of UT from the-”

“Fantastic,” I said, cutting him off before he dominated the conversation with his enthusiasm. “Terix, you’re on data duty too, as well as your usual day to day shift work. Those 905s aren’t going to file themselves.”

“That right?” he drawled, narrowing his eyes at me. For a turian, he was one hell of a reluctant subordinate. “Anything specific, or should I just wait for you to tell me what to look for?”

Gods thrice fuck it, I hated briefings. Soon it would be over, and I allowed myself a moment of respite. I imagined the sun on Oriana’s face as she turned to look at me, smiling at something over my shoulder.

“Since you put it so nicely, you can go over the flight records for the entire colony when the children disappeared,” I said. “I want every carrier, skycar, and fleet that passed over that day accounted for. They were moved somewhere, and I want to know how.”

Terix grunted, then settled back into his seat. Perhaps he would learn to pick his battles, especially with the DI handing out his assignments. “And saving the station’s golden boy for last: Detective Adaraka.”

His colleagues laughed, and at least Adaraka was good natured enough to take their jeers with a smirk. “Bring it,” he said, folding his arms.

“You are going back to the orphanage and finding out if there’s another connection to our murder victim and the missing children. Interview everyone there again, please. And at the risk of sounding like a broken advertisement booth, _find that rifle._ CSI Vulix caught the presence of bleach at yesterday’s scene, which boosts this to premeditated.”

_Bathtub, rifle, legion, missing._

“Anyone got anything else to add?” I said. I adjusted my coat with a flick, pleased. I had said everything I planned, and no one had died.

Adaraka cleared his throat before speaking. I had taken over his job after all, and I expected something from him during the meeting. “So. I did some digging last night since I got curious about your little dance with a bullet.”

I raised a brow. “Go on.”

“Turns out there was an alien cargo vessel called the Steppe Sprinter near the rations store, and surprise surprise, it’s no longer in our space. Some tiny asari model, but it is capable of FTL jumps. Registered to a S. Kelos- our databanks have nothing on either the ship or the owner.”

“Odd name,” said Galnius. He had his hands shoved under his armpits, for some Gods give reason. “Can’t work out if it’s asari, human, or salarian.”

I said the one thing Adaraka didn’t want me to hear : “I don’t think it’s relevant to the case.”

Of course, I was still curious at the Blackwatch presence here, but I would investigate it alone. I was reluctant to share my find with others since I knew my superiors at C-Sec would take me off the case the instant they heard about it. The incident was a political shitstorm waiting to happen, and considering my reputation with anonymous shooters, one not so good for my career.

And as much as I’d rather be back in Zakera, I’d want it done on my terms. Namely, this case closed and behind me, and no more Internal Affairs watching every action I made. That I had a Vakarian analysing the Austin case was bad enough; I did not want whatever maelstrom that swarmed over Epiteia to complicate things.

The officers all looked at each other, and if I wasn’t careful the power balance would shift back to their old loyalty- namely, Adaraka.

He leaned against the table, hands in front of him. “It could be, though,” he said. “Hear me out before you dismiss this. Whoever this Kelos is, they know you’re here and they know you’re on this case. Maybe they wanted to scare you off.”

He managed to find the one person who shot at me, but three children and a damn rifle were beyond his skills. “I’d rather we focus on the obvious leads before we go over last evening’s incident,” I said.

It was not the reaction Adaraka wanted. He at least was calm before he replied, clenching his fists behind his back so hard I heard his armour squeak. “I thought you might-”

“Thank you Detective Adaraka, I’ll take it into consideration,” I said, talking over him. “But I would prefer it if we could focus on the missing children.”

I chuffed an exhale. These things often had a tendency to drag out, and I could see Galnius was desperate to ask pointless questions. “We all know what we’re doing?” I asked. Officer Terix shrugged, as done with this as I was. “Good. Because we all have jobs to do.”

Finally, they heard the sharp dismissal of my words. “Yes sir,” said Sully, standing up. Adaraka shook his head barely a centimetre, irritated by my rejection; perhaps it was good I would work with Officer Sully today, if only to let Adaraka cool down.

“Excellent. Shall we, Sully? You can drive.” We walked past an unapologetic Galnius pocketing snacks into his armour in silence; I could still feel Adaraka’s gaze bore a hole at the back of my fins.

“Ah, sorry.” Sully knocked empty ration bar wrappers from my seat when we reached her skycar; one of those, officers, then. The ones that always handed over the cruisers like garbage cans.

I watched her in the reflection of the window as we set off, arms folded. Not an attractive girl, but I had literal human perfection to go home to. If you were going to go xeno, at least get the kind of alien that could start a bar fight with a saunter alone; it really does rankle the anthropocentric assholes.

But no one believes me when I say I’m only a reluctant xenophile; T’lori still sent me fleshy human porn, no matter how much I protested. It came down to availability; the population of my people numbered precisely 0.0008% of the entire Citadel’s Wards. If you were a drell that wanted to feel the warmth of another, it would be with something distinctly unscaled.

Some humans had the right level of attractive attributes that lined up to what I was used to, but they still came with literal alien features that unnerved me. I loved Ori, but finding her hair in my food and at the back of my throat were memories I did not wish to relive. Unfortunately for me, Officer Sully had triggered them.

She chewed the end of her hair as she drove, unaware of what she was doing. “That’s an odd habit,” I said, trying to breathe through my mouth.

“Ah, sorry.” She tossed the braid back over her shoulder. “Should really have it tied back per Alliance regs, but we’re not Alliance. Turians don’t seem to care about how I wear my hair, at least not around here.”

“All the humans in C-Sec have short hair. My Ori-” I paused, then cleared my throat. Did I really want over share my personal life? So much for keeping myself in a DI bubble.

“Myori?”

“My Oriana. She’s human. She keeps hers to her chin,” and I found myself holding out a hand to mine. I put it back on my knee, annoyed at the gesture.

“Aaw,” Sully said. “Does she know she’s yours?”

I chuffed my answer first. “I’d get a stern lecture about possessive pronouns if she had heard that.”

“I like her already.”

“She’s easy to like,” I said, looking out the window. “I’m the asocial one.” Sully grinned at me and allowed me to prove my point, but I was curious about something. “May I ask you a personal question?”

She adjusted the speed of the cruiser before she spoke. “What’s a nice girl like me doing in a place like this? It’s the first thing people usually want to know.”

I inclined my head. “Your words, not mine- I’d have phrased it differently.”

“Classy.” Sully fidgeted in her seat, hands still on the dashboard. “My wife is the short answer. Via’s a turian,” she said. “She’s not here, works a lot. Part of a crew of the _Mrexia_ , a dreadnought in the Aethon cluster. A lot of pirates again, it’s needed.”

Sully seemed like a lost girl, despite the connection here. I wondered if she had friends that looked out for her. “That’s a long time apart,” I said. “It’s been barely a week and I’m still unsure what I am meant to do with myself after work.”

She risked an amused side eye. “If Officer Terix was here, he’d say we’re both whipped.”

“Of course he would. And we should listen to a perpetual bachelor, because..?”

“Ha! Got that right.” She cleared her throat after a pause. Sully seemed the type who liked to talk about herself, which I could deal with; Adaraka had only pried. “It’s better for me, I’ve found- being alone here, I mean,” she said. “I’ve gone from _Via’s human_ to just _the human_. Soon they’ll see me as _Sully._ I hope they do, anyway.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. That’s something that I, personally speaking as a drell, have never experienced before in my life.” I put enough sarcasm in my words for her to get the point- I would not cry her a river. If she wanted the familiar, her kind could be found in an eye blink.

That made her sheepish. “Ah, yeah. You’re my third drell in person, congratulations.” I smiled and looked out the window again, letting her off the hook. “Has Galnius asked you weird questions yet?” she said. “He asked me once if my hair bleeds when I brush it. Was too gobsmacked to reply.”

“I’m sure there’s time,” I replied. “Nothing like playing ambassador for your people, is there?”

The smile she gave me had lit the entirety of her face; this was a subject she could finally unburden somewhere, and I had allowed her.

“Yes! I mean, it’s not as if I gave the biggest shits about humanity to begin with, but whenever one of us invariably does something in the news, Shanxi gets mentioned. Or how the turians single handedly rescued my homeworld, and how grateful I should be. Hear it when I arrest people all the damn time.”

I had an advantage there; drell never made the news. All I had was _That Guy From Blasto_ , the Weeping Heart models and several variations of: ‘do you know Tanna? She’s from Kahje, too. Goes to my gym.’

Then there was my father’s notoriety, of course. Even though we shared a family name, people still struggled to make a connection, it was fascinating. Worked in my favour, though- I did not want to coast through life on his reputation; my achievements would be my own.

“Ignorance is delightful to abuse,” I said. That made her giggle, and I wondered how this woman was an officer of the law. Perhaps I shouldn’t judge; I’ve seen the tiniest of humans take down enraged krogan during drunk tank shifts, and still read them their legal rights after.

“Those sort aren’t worth my time anyway,” she said. “This is my life now, you know? If they don’t like it, they can lump it, I’m not going anywhere. Via had fond memories of this place as a kid and said we could find a place here. There was nothing for me on Earth, anyway. Not anymore.”

I had heard several stories like hers since the war. Mine was similar, even. “Sorry to hear that.”

Sully shrugged. “What about you?”

“Hmm?” I didn’t quite get the question.

“How did you meet? You and your human lady.” She was a romantic, xenophiles usually were.

It was my fault for starting it, but I didn’t want to have this discussion with a complete stranger. “The Citadel’s a big place, Officer Sully.”

“That it is, DI Krios,” she said, grinning at me. “Simple as that, I suppose.”

I suppose there was no harm in telling her. “We met at a mutual acquaintance’s party, nothing exciting.” Oriana and I had watched as Admirals, Heroes and Spectres drank themselves into oblivion; we stood on the edge of it all, both unsure why we were there. Several inebriated souls told me stories about my father during the night, and all I could do was stare into my-

_-drell,’ a voice said. I was sat next to a Prothean at the bar, an Enkindler himself. The man was so drunk he could barely hold up his head. ‘Let me touch you, I wish to learn. Liara’s pet from her primitive ship evades my questions and-_

“-been with her long?” I heard Sully ask, overlapped with the end of my recollection. I had told an Enkindler to go fuck himself, a fond memory.

“Over three years now, three and half soon.”

“Good to hear,” she said. She wanted to know more, but let it go. We had work to do; Sully cleared her throat and shifted back her shoulders. She was an officer now and nodded at me. “We’re at the first home, Vitelia Aberdas’s family. It’s the house at the end of the road, the one with the broken skycar outside.”

We had parked in a neat little suburb, caught between the edges of the lake and the town; the houses here were a great deal larger than the murder victim’s compact little bungalow, though were still obviously turian in design.

Two of the missing children lived on this street, two doors from the other. The other came from a smaller home on the edge of the forest that surrounded the suburb, tucked out of view. “Anything of note?” I said. The Aberdas family were the ones the Historian disapproved of, the refugees who-

_-a little more rough than Epiteia is used to, but they are grieving in their way,’ he said, shifting in his seat. ‘They have several children; seven, I think. Not all theirs, three are adopted-_

“I like this family,” she said, shrugging. “Reminds me of mine, you know? House full of kids and noise. The mother of the other missing girl keeps on visiting, they’ve gotten close because of the incident.”

Grief was an excellent bonding solution. “Noted.”

Yesterday’s interview with the Historian was different; the stream of constant, polite questions would not work here, not with a grieving family. The Aberdas were under no suspicion, and Sully and I were under the guise of family liaison officers, not here to interview a suspect.

Two children played in the broken skycar as we went past them, letting their imagination take them who knows where. They took one look at us and ran back to the house, the door opening up in an instant.

A turian holding a fussing toddler stood by the entrance as his children streamed past his legs, a cloth thrown over his shoulder. “Officer Sully,” he said. The toddler at his hip held an ubiquitous _Captain Jane & Friends_ cuddle toy; I recognised it as some kind of krogan. Thankfully I had so far avoided watching a single episode in my life.

“Hey Mr. Aberdas,” she said.

“Stop calling me that, I told you. I ain’t my dad- Rixar is fine.”

Sully shifted, nervous at the breach of protocol in front me. “This is DI Krios. He wants to ask you a few questions, if this is okay.”

Rixar Aberdas was no fool. He looked at the C-Sec logo printed on my hardsuit and exhaled, waving away my omni-ID. “Huh. They’re taking it seriously now,” he said. “The place is a mess, no time to clean anything.”

“It is no problem,” I replied, sidestepping a pile of toys. Their home wasn’t as bad as I thought, despite the broken skycar decorating their front lawn. Scratch and scuff marks may have dented the walls, but the place was as clean as it was going to be with an army of kids in the house.

“You want something to drink?” he asked, leading us to a worn kitchen. A girl aged around nine sat at the table and coloured something on a datapad, smiling at Officer Sully when she came in, mandibles twitching in excitement. “Keep some levo packets around for your partner there, since she comes so often. I have asari tea, or the weird brown shit Sully likes.”

“I drew a moxie,” the little girl said, showing Sully her work. “It’s not very good.”

“Better than whatever I can do,” replied Sully, bending down to hug her. “You want me to make the drinks?”

“Nah, sit tight. Dena, you can watch your vids now,” he told the girl.

The promise of vids was more alluring than our company, and the opening theme to something obnoxiously cheerful started in the living room behind me. Thundering feet of other children were soon lured by the sounds of cartoons, throwing themselves onto a depressed looking couch to watch it.

Sully smiled at them, waving as they all shouted her name. “Tea sounds lovely, thank you,” I replied, amused at the familiarity.

The fussing toddler Rixar held was put straight into her arms so he could make our drinks. Sully hoisted him up with a “whoops-a-daisy,” jiggling him against her hip the way most species did with upset children. Neither he nor I knew what she just said meant, going by the kid’s confusion.

“Have you got anyone to help you out?” I asked. “Family, or friends, maybe?”

“My husband’s mom moved in a few days ago,” said Rixar. “She’s out shopping now. And the neighbours keep on visiting. They’re so fuckin’ keen to help that I have to get rid of them. It’s just-” He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and leaned down, staring at the table. “What was it again? What was I making you,” he said eventually, glaring at me.

“Whatever is easiest,” I replied.

“Pick something,” Rixar snapped, shaking his head towards the drink machine. A chipped vase holding a drooping lily sat next to it, and-

_-It’s not right, it’s not. My lilies are from Palaven’s botanical gardens! Do you know how rare they are? It’s those refugees, I’m sure it is-_

Inwardly I shrugged. “The asari tea is fine.”

It was the same bitter blend the Historian had served me, but I would drink it again. “The kids are going mad, cooped up in here,” Rixar mumbled, fiddling with his own cup. “But we can’t just- no one can-” he stared at the ceiling before he spoke. “Nothing can be done until they’re found, and Lia is back.”

I sipped my tea. Rixar Aberdas and his family were victims, and Sully and I were here as a liaison- at least, she was. I was here to ask questions, but watching his reactions was good enough for now.

Rixar paused again. “They train you Citadel cops to be quiet or somethin’? You don’t talk as much as Sully.”

“We’re here to be as unobtrusive as we can,” I said. I was not surprised that Sully would have a reputation for talking. “This is your home, and the last thing I want to do is make things difficult for you.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Oh yeah? All the better for us to say somethin’ and fuck ourselves over with it, huh?” As it happened, yes- that was the real reason. But it’s not as if I could tell him that.

I let the silence do the talking, even though Sully was desperate to fill it. “Is your husband working today, Rixar?”

“Yeah, he couldn’t get more days off this week.” He rubbed around the soft skin of his eyes, tired. “Do you think you can bring my girl back?” he asked me. “If they sent someone from the Citadel, it must mean something’s happening.”

I tried to think of a lie to soothe him. If he got his daughter back, then whatever I said would fade from his alien memory, dull in comparison. If I couldn’t find Vitelia Aberdas, then my words would never be forgotten, forever etched in misery. “It’s my job to find her, Mr. Aberdas,” I said. “I’ve been sent by the Council to help.”

“But why?” he asked. “Do you know something I don’t?”

A chime at the door saved me from answering him again. “Dad! It’s Pliva’s Mom!” was shouted from the hallway, and thundering feet jumped back to the couch- a vid was still playing, after all.

The toddler reached for his father in a trill, bored of Sully’s alien attention; Rixar took him back. “Can I catch a fuckin’ break?” he said, hoisting his grumbling son into his cowl. “It’s like Cipritine station around here.”

I stood quietly to see who it was. A tall turian woman hovered by the entrance, dressed in immaculate clothes of blue and yellow.

“Icina, you have to stop doing this,” Rixar said, taking a plastic pot of something from her. “You’re too nice, seriously.”

_-the room was cold, and Oriana had lifted the blanket over us both, eyes not moving from the news report. ‘Please find my girl,’ a keening mother said. Her grief seemed genuine enough-_

“That’s Icina Duvitus,” said Sully, just for my ears. She was the mother of the oldest missing child, and I wondered how often she turned up like this.

The woman clasped her hands in front of her, not quite coming into the house. “It’s no trouble. I just- it gives me something to do. I like to cook.”

Sully and I looked at each and I leaned back, eavesdropping as much as I could. “The cops are here,” said Rixar. “They’ll probably see you soon. Do us all in a neat little line, just to let us know they found shit,” Rixar said. We both could hear bitterness underline his words.

Mrs. Duvitus was flustered now; his words had affected her. “What have they found?”

Rixar snorted, and I could see him leaning his forehead against the doorframe. “Nothing. They sent someone from the Council, though.”

Icina clasped a hand to her keel. “A Spectre?”

He laughed before answering, though it sounded hollow. “As if, just a C-Sec guy. Five days of nothing and they sent us a kid fresh out of the academy.”

I headed towards the hallway, ignoring the jabs. Icina saw me and took in my uniform. I put my hands behind my back and nodded. I would let Rixar decide how this was going to go; Sully and I would see this Icina soon, regardless.

“Speaking of,” he said. “Shit, C-Sec. What was your name again?”

“DI Krios,” I replied, taking a step closer. “I have been sent by the Council to lead the investigation.” There was a pause as both the parents looked at me, waiting for me to speak again. “I shall speak to you later if you are free to, Mrs. Duvitus.”

“Oh!” Icina startled, nervous. “I’m sorry, I’m intruding here. Of course we can speak when you want, DI Krios. I should- I should get back.”

Rixar juggled the pot of food awkwardly with a squirming toddler in his cowl as she left us. I decided it was time to be a homicide detective, not a family liaison officer. “Do you know someone called Kaeruns Abtion?” I asked him, once we were settled in the kitchen again.

Rixar frowned. “Old, miserable, shouts at the kids for being kids. Why?”

“He was found murdered yesterday,” Sully said, quiet enough so the children in the other room couldn’t hear. The toddler in his arms was oblivious to the conversation, intent on shoving an entire plastic spoon into his mouth.

“Oh. Shame,” Rixar replied, though didn’t mean it. “He often went for walks around here, yelled at my kids for picking the flowers. And then he called my garden a disgrace, said the skycar was an eyesore.”

That was an interesting information drop. I don’t think for one moment they had anything to do with the murder, but it wouldn’t hurt to have Sully to check the alibis of all the families, just in case. “Is it okay if I look upstairs at Vitelia’s room before I go?” I asked.

He frowned. “Again? You guys went over it already. She shares with her sister and it’s still their bedroom. Nothing has changed.”

“It’s just routine,” Sully said, soothing him.

Rixar sighed. “Right. Yeah.”

The room was painted a cheerful purple and in need of a clean. The walls were covered in flashing holos of Captain Jane & Friends, and some kind of creature I recognised as a moxie. Plastic bricks meant for omni-tool games were upended onto the floor, reused so a Captain Jane action figure could have tea with the Guardian.

I nudged one of the bricks with a toe. There was nothing here that pointed out why she was gone; Vitelia Aberdas was an eight year old girl, and while I knew the whys and hows of eight year old girls going missing on the Citadel, Epiteia was a different beast.

There was no sign of a forced entry in the house, nothing was taken. Vitelia Aberdas went outside to play -you can do that on colonies apparently- and didn’t come back. All she had with her was the clothes on her back and a Captain Jane action figure.

With a sigh I left, passing the room of a scrawny teenager hunched over his terminal. He looked a couple of years away from boot camp, his fringe not yet grown. The window was playing something violently recognisable, and I cleared my throat behind him in the doorway.

“Uh, hey?” he closed the holo, guilty at being caught. He knew I was a cop, but I wasn’t exactly going to arrest a teenager for a _Galaxy of Fantasy_ habit. Though knowing most teen boys, I’m glad it was just a video game on the screen.

I stepped over the threshold, avoiding the landmines of discarded clothing. Three stacked beds divided the room, though judging by the stench of unwashed teenager I’d guess an entire legion camped here.

The boy fidgeted, desperate to go back to his game. I recognised the type- I was it, ten years ago. “Was that the new expac?” I said, struggling to find somewhere safe to stand.

“Do you play?” he asked, wide-eyed at the prospect of both a cop and an adult playing his extranet game.

“I was a Lifebearer.” I stood with my hands behind my back, trying not to touch anything. “Light spec.”

“Damn, you still one? Our Legion still needs healers.” He gestured to the scrolling text of the game as the holo flickered back to life. “Always a shortage. What server you on?”

He obviously didn’t catch the past tense, so enthused to find another player. “I was on Olymnian.”

“Ah, that’s the Eagle Nebula servers, right? We have a dude who plays from Kahje in our Legion, he’s nuts. One of our best Spirit Walkers though,” he said, warming up to the conversation.

“That’s the new damage class, is it not? I stopped playing around the _Phaestron’s Burden_ expac.” It was technically a lie- I stopped my extranet gaming habit well before the war. Juggling community service, evening classes, and C-Sec training made it impossible to have a social life, much less a gaming hobby.

“Oh man, I wasn’t playing then. Did you do the Echos of Manius raid live? Heard it was insane-”

_-I almost punched the wall in frustration. ‘Oh look, we’re dead. If you are going to stand in the Gods damned fire, I am not wasting my mana in healing you sons of cunting bitches-_

“-you could say that, yes,” I said. “I got my tier bonus from it, though.” I glanced at him once, then stood up from my lean over his shoulder. “You know why I’m here?”

I was a detective again, and his sister was still missing. We had shrunk back into our roles, and I adjusted my jacket with a flick. “Yeah,” he said, looking away. “You’re new, though. Didn’t know Epiteia had a drell cop.”

“They don’t,” and I pointed out the painted C-Sec logo of my hardsuit. “What’s your name?”

“Gaius,” he said, still not looking up.

“I’m DI Krios, Gaius. Do you know who Kaeruns Abtion is?”

“That old bastar- I mean, man? Yeah. Heard he got shot.”

Gaius knew about the murder, but his father didn’t. Curious. “When did you see him last?”

He spun around in his chair, thinking about it. “The day Lia went missing. Was on one of his walks where he shouts at the gardens, or whatever.”

Kaeruns Abtion was near the scene of the children’s disappearance; that almost connected his murder to the kidnapping, but not quite. “Can you remember when, exactly?”

“In the morning, just before, ah, Lia went- before it-” he closed the window of Galaxy of Fantasy again. I could see anger and sadness register across his profile as he looked away.

“Before it all went to shit?” I said, filling in for him. I shouldn’t, really. Witnesses should never be led in interviews, but the boy was one step away from clamming up.

“Yeah.” Gaius looked up and rubbed the plates on his forehead. “He was at the end of the road, shuffling around.”

“You can confirm that for me?” I was typing out the statement already, omni-tool glowing.

Sully knocked politely on the wall outside the room; we had a timetable to stick to, and I had been up here long enough. “Rixar has to take the children out,” she said.

I stood up, statement already logged and counted for. “Thank you, Gaius. You’ve been very helpful. You may have to be called up as a witness, but Officer Sully can help you prepare for this, should you need it.” Sully startled at the mention but put her professional face back on. “I’ll leave you alone to kill the Defilers.”

He chuffed in amusement. “Yeah, whatever.”

We left their home and made our way towards the Duvitus residence, fours houses down from them. The door opened as soon as I rang the chime; Icina had been expecting us.

A VI clean-bot hovered in the living room, and she turned it off when we came in. “Can I make you something?” she asked. “I have levo teas.”

I nodded. Tea and sympathy were standard for family liaison work, and it gave me a chance to look around at the living room while she made it.

If the Aberdas place was touched by the chaos of children, then the Duvitus’s seemed to hide all evidence they even had one. It was tastefully decorated and modern, all sharp steel lines and grayscale palettes. Their place was the kind of home that would be featured in design datapads, though I found it too sterile.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” she said, though clearly we would struggle to see a spec of dust. “I haven’t had time to do my usual routine.”

As soon as a better quality tea was put in my hands, I started the interview. “Where’s your husband?”

“Off colony,” she said, positioning the vase in the centre of the table. “For work. One of us has to, I suppose. He says it’s best, that it’s easier for him to cope.”

That he wasn’t here during the time of both his daughter’s disappearance and to support his grieving wife-

 _-just did my job, Kolyat,’ he said. ‘There is no way I could possibly make up for the times I was away, I am trying to_ -

I blinked away the memory before it consumed me. “Unfortunate to hear,” I said. “Do you have anyone who is helping you?”

Icina startled at the words; somehow I struck a nerve. If I didn’t know any better I’d say she was frightened, and I stopped my imagination from getting ahead of me.

“I have some friends who come by,” she replied. “My husband helps out over vidcall, but his work takes him-”

_-is away on business,’ Mami said, shifting me on her hip. I held out the rock for Uncle to examine, and he pats my fins. ‘We need the money, what with me not working and Kolyat going to-_

A headache formed, and I rubbed at the centre of my forehead. “Perhaps it would be advisable if he returned as soon as possible,” I said. Sully nodded once, fiddling with her mug. “You need each other.”

The words broke her. Icina looked at a spot on the table, her face shutting down. “It’s no bother,” she said. “There are others who have it worse, and-” she stopped, and put a hand to her keel and keened. “I’m sorry, I just-”

Sully got up from the table to put a hand on her shoulder. “There is no need to apologise for anything,” she said. “It’s okay to cry. You’re under a lot of strain, Mrs. Duvitus.”

Not that turians cried in the way of drell and humans, but hopefully Icina got the point. “May I look at Pliva’s room? If you’ll allow it.” Icina nodded her reply, though funnily enough seemed anxious at the thought of a cop wandering her home unattended; no one likes it, no matter how clean they are. “Don’t worry, I can find it.”

Pliva had two rooms to herself, a luxury for even an only child. I could see no grubby talon marks on the walls; even the bedding was free of wrinkles. Everything was pristine, but the place felt like a museum- not a kid’s playroom. Games were neatly stacked, clothing was folded to perfection; no toys on the floor, no datapad unturned.

I picked up a stuffed animal from the shelf, some sort of Palaven fish. “Please don’t touch,” Icina said from the doorway; Sully hovered behind her, biting her lip. “Please. Everything has to be right so when she gets back, so Pliva knows where everything is. It’s important.”

Icina took the toy from my hands and stared at it. Gone was the keening, and in its place a frenzied anxiety that almost made me take a step back; Icina Duvitus was one word away from spiraling out of control.

I still had a job to do and was here for a reason. “Do you know a man called Kaeruns Abtion?” I asked.

She rubbed the toy free of nonexistent dirt before she put it back with the others. “Vaguely. He’s a regular at the Watchtower. I sometimes go to the Spirit service.”

“When was the last you saw him?”

There was a silence as she stared at me, unsure what to say. “I… don’t know. He walks around here often; last week, maybe?”

She had her back to me still. “He was murdered yesterday,” I said. I saw her sway and managed to catch her before she went down in a swoon. “Sully!”

We walked Icina to her bedroom between us, the place as immaculately clean as the rest of the house. “I’m sorry,” Icina said again, staring up at me with hollow eyes. “I don’t know what happened. Is it something to do with Pliva? Do you know anything?”

“Is there anyone we can call?” I asked her. “To sit with you, I mean?” Like your absent husband, I wanted to say. You know, the one that left you alone to cope.

“Tulnea is meant to be coming around in the afternoon,” she replied. “She’s very kind.”

I looked at Sully to make the call. Discreetly she went outside the bedroom, omni-tool lit up. “Is that Tulnea Calanion? The one from the Lifebearer Brigade?”

“Yes.” Icina sat on the bed, hands clasped in her lap.

I knelt by her so she was forced to look down at me, and I put my hand over her crossed wrists. “I’m sorry I have to ask this, but when was the last time you saw Pliva, can you remember? I know you’ve already told my colleague for a statement, but I need to hear it too.”

She flinched from my touch, and I could see her fight another keening cry. “At noon. She was with the Aberdas girl and the little boy down the road. I saw them and thought they were sweet, they were all holding hands.”

They were the exact same words she had told Detective Adaraka during their interview, almost to the letter; Icina’s statement had not changed at all.

“Mrs. Duvitus,” I said, pulling the comforter over her lap. “I’m going to leave you here to your rest, and Officer Sully and I will be in the living room until your friend gets here, all right?”

Icina rolled over to lie down, silent now. It wasn’t until I walked down the hallway that her keens reached me again, lonely in her grief.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have made a character cast list for Disconnect, available[ **to read here**](https://docs.google.com/document/d/17HeGOHJ3o-Dt5-QZE4YL0_046mcx8oaDfXb_2ivJlEU/edit?usp=sharing) if you need help keeping up with all the turians of Epiteia.


	10. Get A Real Job

 FEDORIAN CRESCENT, DAY TWO.  
_10:43am._

Icina Duvitus’s keening had stopped eventually. Sully brought her a glass of water, and I leaned outside the hallway while I heard her murmur soft words of consolation. We had no lead on the disappearance of her daughter, and all we could offer was the reassurance we were working on it.

I silenced my VITA before she could speak about hygrometers and humidity, trying to shut the audio off. I was still connected to the damn thing when the door rang, and I had to answer it one handed to let Icina’s friend in.

A concerned Tulnea Calanion was pointed in the direction of the bedroom before we left; there was not a lot else we could do. I was past the threshold of the Duvitus’s garden when I realised I was holding my breath and inhaled once to fill my lungs.

Sully looked just as pensive. “Watch her,” I said. “That’s your job now.”

It was frustrating; we needed one more FLO on the case, and the officers assigned to me were already stretched thin. Sully would be devoting her time liaising with all three families now, taking a capable cop off the case.

“Yes sir,” she replied, fiddling with her sleeves.

I shoved my hands in my pocket and went over the interview again. “That woman is badly held together and about ready to explode. Persuade her to bring her husband home, a friend, anything. You can go back after we visit the last family.”

Sully nodded. “She’s gotten worse. Your questions upset her,” and at my side eye she held out her hands. “No offence sir- I know it’s our job.”

“Did anything seem out of place to you?” Icina’s swooning reaction wasn’t exactly out of the blue for a frantic relative of a kidnapping case, but still.

“Not really. She’s the most fragile out of them,” she said, shrugging at the question.

Something about the Duvitus house felt off, but it could be the mausoleum Icina kept for her daughter’s rooms that unnerved me the most. “I’m going to interview a witness after the last family,” I said. “I’d rather you didn’t come. Your job is with them, now.”

She looked back where we left Icina, pensive again. “All right.” Once we were by the skycar, Sully pulled out a ration bar from the front. “Want one?”

“No thank you.” I looked away as she ate, pulling out my omni-tool. “You’ve already interviewed this one, anyway,” I said, going over the statement I took this morning from the Aberbas boy. “A mechanic nearby here, says he saw Pliva Duvitus walking by herself at the time of the disappearance.”

Sully gagged at the mention, then threw the wrapper back in the car like it was a garbage can. “Oh, _him_. Pacus Hex, our local arsehole. Twat called me a pretty pyjack.”

Her disgust made me curious, but I had to speak to the Caeplins before I could see this ‘local asshole.' Juvus was the youngest of the children to disapear at only six years of age, and his father was the first to report him missing.

I pulled out a pinch of se’aus and shoved it under my lip as we walked. Sully at least let me enjoy my habit without twenty questions about it, and only gave it a glance when she saw the tin. “Why is it always animals for insults, anyway?” I said. “If I had ten credits for every time I’ve been called a lizard, I could retire by now.”

“Yeah, well. Jokes on them, sir; I like pyjacks,” she replied. We both grinned, even if it was a mild stab at humour. After Icina’s bout of misery, we needed it.

“Your pyjack fancier-”

“- _he’s_ not my anything,” Sully replied, pretending to act sullen. “I’ve already got a turian, thanks. One’s enough, believe me.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said. “Anyway, your _admirer_ puts Pliva Duvitus in a different place than what her mother said. Either Icina is lying, or she can’t remember things correctly. Whatever it is, it’s not good enough to leave alone.”

She frowned. “Hex’s place is a ten minute walk from here, just up the footpath. I know the children play in the forest behind the houses, but it’s possible she was there. I’ll admit I didn’t think much of his statement at the time.”

The trees stood straight as soldiers beyond the roofs of the street, a strange reddened bark against the aqua of the sky. “Why? Not just because he called you a pyjack, I hope,” I said, watching the rings of Iritum again.

“Hex has a reputation.” Sully looked at the scars on her wrist and pulled the sleeve further down to cover it. “He, ah, didn’t have a good war. He’s banned from the local bar.”

So much said in the unsaid. Of course, the one witness I was interested in was would be torn apart in the stand, all before a defence lawyer could mutter the words _Post Traumatic Stress_.

I huffed a sigh, changing the subject. “What do you think of the next family?”

Sully chewed a nail before she answered, thinking her answer through. “They both are clean, alibis all check out. Distant, that’s the word I’d use for them. Out of all the families, it’s the Caeplins who are the quietest. Juvus was their only kid too.”

For some reason Sully’s words made me think of the lake, the deceptive silence of grief. They named it Victory when it was made, according to the brochure; the original crater spanned the entire colony. 480 km of languid, calm water terraformed from the fissures of hidden ice, deceiving in its depth.

“Let’s get them interviewed.” I gestured for her to lead, and we wound our way along the pathway, up into the trees.

A solitary house greeted us in the clearing. It took three rings of the door chime before we got an answer, and a sleepy male turian wrapped in a blanket opened the door. I put him at around early thirties, almost half the age of the parents we’d seen today.

No good news usually comes when two police officers turn up at your doorstep. People rightly assume the worse, especially those with missing children to worry over. Once he worked out who we were, Mr. Caeplin’s entire body jolted like he was shot.

“No,” he said, subvocals frantic with panic. “What’s happened?”

The blanket fell from his shoulders, and Sully bent down to pick it up. “There’s no news,” she said, passing it back. “We’re just here to let you know how things are going, and if you have any questions for us.” I nodded at her words; it was a standard issue FLO answer if I ever heard it. I made a good choice in promoting Officer Sully.

Mr. Caeplin folded in relief, slumped against the door. “Who are you?” he said, looking at me. My omni-ID flashed in front of him, and he squinted at it. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I’ve been sent by the Council to help the investigation,” I replied, holding my hand out now. “I’m DI Krios.”

He ignored the gesture, bleary-eyed still. “Right, sure,” he said, unsure what to do. “I work nights. I’m sorry, you woke me up. Come in, I’ll put some kava on. Call me Teus.”

My bladder could take no more tea, and to my relief, he had nothing levo to drink. Teus Caeplin sipped his kava with both hands, the hide around his eyes creased in sleep and grief. “What do you know?” he asked. “If you’re here, something has happened.”

Sully folded her hands on the table; I noticed the burn marks pucker her skin, and looked away. “Where’s Mrs. Caeplin today?” she asked, deflecting his question with one of her own.

“The usual, at work. Laeta will stay there all night if she could,” he said. I didn’t hear bitterness there, only frustration. “Someone will drag her by her crest to get home to me, don’t worry.”

My eye caught a painting framed in the kitchen behind him, a childish drawing scribbled on real paper; _Mom, Dad, and Juvus_ was written underneath in an adult’s hand. Teus noticed my gaze and smiled, then immediately looked away.

“He’s good for his age,” I said.

“Did that last year too,” Teus replied. “First in his class for mathematics and sciences- didn’t get that from me.”

“He’s resourceful. That means he’s surviving,” said Sully.

Teus looked away, then pulled the blanket further around his shoulders. “He’s adopted, you know. We don’t think of him as that. He’s our son.”

I took a breath before speaking. “Family doesn’t mean blood-”

_-just because he made me, doesn’t mean he’s my father,’ she said. Oriana’s blue eyes were ice cold in the light of the Widow’s star, and I reached for her hand. ‘Fuck him. All he did was donate bits of cell. Blood doesn’t define-_

“-I didn’t realise we needed him,” Teus replied, talking over the memory. “Like he was always meant to be here. I thought-” I leaned forward to show I was still listening. “I thought we were just fine as a unit, Laeta and me. I didn’t know how much Juvus would just fit so easily into our lives, you know? Just one of those kids- always smiling.”

“We’re doing everything in our power to find him,” I said. “It’s why I’ve been sent.”

They were hollow words, but at least they were true. “It’s my fault,” said Teus. “I should’ve kept him inside. I just assumed with the two older girls he would be safe. He was so happy he got to tag along with the big kids. He left with his backpack on and said he was going to have an adventure, but he would be back soon. I didn’t think-”

A common theme with grieving relatives; the what ifs and should haves they thought they had control over. Sully put her hand over his shoulder, but Teus shrugged it off, annoyed at the breach of personal space.

I thought of Kaeruns Abtion and wondered if the Caeplins had seen him too. “Do you know a man named Kaeruns Abtion?” I asked.

He pushed his kava away, fatigued by our presence. “Should I?”

Sully cleared her throat before speaking. “He’s an older gentleman. Lives around here, often goes for walks.”

She was in danger of leading the witness on, and I pushed down my reaction before Teus could see it. “Don’t know him,” he said. “I work nights; so Laeta might. Is it important?”

“He was murdered yesterday.”

Teus looked at us both, unsure what to say. “Is it something to do with Juvus?”

“It might not be,” I replied. “Just a line of inquiry to follow through. It is only procedure.”

“Ask Laeta,” he said. He sighed, rubbing at his eyes again. The interview had gone on long enough.

“Do you have a bathroom I could use?” I asked.

“Down the hallway.”

I took it as permission to nose around the other rooms, even if it wasn’t explicitly stated. The Caeplin’s place was not as neat as Icina’s frantically cleaned house, but tidier than the Aberdas; it was a nice home, even.

There was nothing that stood out. As I washed my hands, I checked the bathroom cabinet; recently prescribed sleeping pills were given to both parents, along with a recurring prescription for citoxotine. I often saw of bottles of the stuff when I searched bathrooms now- It was a standard dextro antidepressant, and Gods know in the past years we could all use a serotonin boost.

Sully caught my eye and I gave her the look of ‘ _we should go_ ’ when I got back to the kitchen. As we said our farewells, I offered my hand again; this time Teus shook it.

“We will let you know the minute we find anything,” I said.

“Contact me whenever you need to,” Sully added. Teus closed the door on us, and as it went past in a hiss, I could see the relief etched on his face at being left alone.

“I’m off to speak to your pyjack fancier,” I said, once we were further from the house. Sully rolled her eyes at me but matched my grin soon after. “You’re with the families. I trust your judgement in how you handle it, but don’t give them false hope. Stick to facts, please.”

She nodded. “Yes, sir. Know where you’re going? Hex is through the forest path.”

I followed Sully’s vague pointing towards the trees; it would be nice to go for a run through the forest, I was getting bored of the lake. “I have a gods damned VI under my scales. I should hope so.”

“Rather you than me,” she replied, shuddering. “Don’t know how you C-Sec lot cope.”

We don’t is the short answer, but I didn’t want to get into Citadel politics right now. “There’s a reason we’re striking,” I said and left it at that.

I found Hex’s address on my omni-tool and memorised a route. Sully waved me off as I left her, and I was glad for the walk to go over my thoughts on the families. All three handled grief in their own way: the Aberdas buried themselves in distractions; Icina Duvitus keened and cleaned in her solitude; the Caeplins with work and sleeping pills.

The forest path had been recently coppiced, the limbs of the strange red trees hacked into shape to promote growth. Tall grass grazed my knee as I reached a clearing, and I pushed aside a memory of running through my parent’s garden as child.

Was Pacus Hex telling the truth? Sully told me she thought Icina Duvitus’s reaction was normal, but something about her obsessive behaviour set me off. I looked through his record on my omni-tool; not clean by a long shot. Bar fights, assaulting a police officer and handling stolen goods, as well as an arrest for reckless skycar driving. That in itself was a feat, considering the VI overrides in place to stop DUIs.

 I split a stem with my nail as I idled my way towards the house of Pacus Hex, hands smelling of sap. It was a strand of salarian burn grass; the stuff was used to aggressively seed even dextro-based colonies, thanks to its fast growth. Oriana in my life meant I absorbed everything from how to slot a prefab together to the best irrigation systems for farming.

Perhaps colony life was not so bad, especially if you had someone to share it with. I wondered if I could stay somewhere like this with Ori, if I would be content with statue vandalism and petty thefts as my day to day-

_-no harm in looking, though?’ she said, showing me the plans on the datapad. I mumbled a noncommittal hum as she nestled into my side. ‘This planet has a desert belt, and you could build a house that’s like, five times the size of this apartm-_

“Now what’s a weird looking drell like you doing in a place like this?” I looked up and saw the reporter from yesterday. She was sitting on the fence that divided the forest from the houses into neat lines, fiddling with her omni-tool. “Detective Investigator Krios. Got time for a chat?”

Gods curse my daydreaming. I tossed the stem I’d mangled, annoyed I’d been caught out. How in the universe did she find me? “ _You_ ,” I said.

She grinned and mimicked my exasperation. “Me.”

I looked down the path where I came from and towards the dead end I was walking to. Either she knew I was coming here, or somehow cut through the forest to head me off. “I can say ‘no comment’ for you very nicely if you ask,” I said.

“Cute,” she replied. “But that’s not what I want to talk about.” I had received Menetina Abicolus’s plea for help over email this morning but only saw it as bait. I couldn’t dismiss her claim outright, though; a lead was still a lead.

“Then why are you here?” I asked.

She shrugged, as if the breach of tailing a police officer was an everyday occurrence for her. “You know what? I could ask the same,” she replied, hopping down the fence. Ms. Abicolus looked me up and down, measuring her words carefully. “So. Why are you here, Krios? In Epiteia, I mean.”

Thrice fuck it, journalists were lampreys stuck to my scales the past month. “Doing my job, Ms. Abicolus. That’s the short answer.”

“Most people call me Abi, but whatever,” she said, her turn to look down the lonely path I came from. “No Adaraka this time? Shame, he’s my favourite.”

The intimacy I saw between them was not a figment of my imagination, then. “Does he return the nepotism or is that a one-way street?”

“Oh, it’s returned. He’s a good lay, you know.” Abi looked me right in the eye as she said it, hand on her hip. “First time we fucked I was walking side by side for days after. He liked it rough.”

 All I could do was snort. What did she expect me to do, clutch my torc and beg for gossip? If it was true, then Adaraka was driven more by his groin plates than I thought. “Fascinating. But unless you have something substantial related to the case, then I suggest you contact the-”

“ -the press department, I know.” She looked around and sighed. “You’re kind of an asshole. You know that, right?”

“No need for flattery,” I replied. It was as I thought; she really had nothing, and this was another attempt at an interview. “Much as it’s been a pleasure talking to you, Ms. Abicolus, some of us have to work for a living. I’m still on duty.”

Abi narrowed her eyes. “Right, so journalism isn’t a job, got it. Let’s make this official and I’ll turn my mic on, how about that? Want to test my professional integrity there, Krios?”

“What was it your email said again?” I couldn’t help myself; what I should be doing is walking away, mouth shut. “ _’We really need to talk_ ,’ you said. _‘I don’t know who else to come to with this- it’s big, and I don’t trust anyone at the station. I won’t ask you about the Ward Killer stuff, I promise._ ’

“And I won’t,” she said, arms crossed. “It’s unrelated, I swear.”

I looked up at the treeline before speaking, huffing a sigh. “Don’t you have a lost glove to report on? I’m sure there’s an amusingly shaped vegetable that can make your delightful newsletter, if you look hard enough.”

“Ah. So this is how you want to play?” Abi seemed too pleased with herself. “Got it.”

I walked fast to get away from her, but she still nipped my heels. “I’m not playing anything. Go away.”

She laughed once. “I know a lot about you, Krios. I know that you live in Zakera in the Mid-Ward district, and have a piss-poor social life. Somehow you manage to have a girlfriend despite it all, though having met you I now wonder if she’s drugged.”

It was nothing, she had nothing. “Wow, ‘Citadel Cop Has A Personal Life.’ I can see the article now.”

Abi quirked a smile at me. “You sure about that? You’ve been with C-Sec officially since you were eighteen, it’s like you bleed police. You were some kind of protege to Commander Bailey, who apparently took you under his wing early. Before that, you did ‘voluntary’ community service, whatever that means. Aren’t most applicants meant to have five years of military experience? What was so special about you to skip all that, I wonder?”

“Go away.” I smashed my anger deep down into my chest before it got the better of me.

Of course, Abi ignored my protests. “You own three properties. Two on the Citadel, one in Kahje. You inherited quite the property portfolio, but you sold most of it when you were nineteen. Then there’s your 51% share of the Kepral’s Research Trust; you helped create it, even.”

When dealing with journalists, we were schooled in C-Sec to say ‘ _no comment_ ,’ and ‘ _wait for the press release_ ,’ but Abi made it hard to reply with either. “There a point to all this?” I asked.

She whistled, scrolling through something on her omni-tool. I refused to look. “That’s a lot of money you’ve donated to your Trust- it’s almost sickly how charitable you are. Unless you’re fiddling your taxes. Are you fiddling your taxes, Krios?”

Gods thrice fuck journalists, and the depths take gods damn journalism. “All of this is on public record,” I replied. “Congratulations, you can use a database search.”

Abi was still a lamprey at my side. “I suppose it all makes sense, what with your father,” she said. “What was it like growing up with a literal war hero?”

I glanced her way once. “You tell me.”

It was a good enough to deflect her. Abi narrowed her eyes again and aimed another jab. “What about your girlfriend? Oriana’s an interesting one. My sources were very keen to point her out when I mentioned you. That her connections were, _hm_ , dubious. That was the word they used.”

I knew she was fishing; she had to be. Abi had nothing on Ori, Miranda had made sure the Lawson connection had disappeared twice over. But this had gone on long enough, and that Oriana was now dragged into her game had made me boil over.

“This is the third time I’ve told you to back off,” I said, pushing her back with a finger. It took a flick of my wrist to pull out the omni-cuffs in my hand. “After that. we can take this to the station, and I’ll read you your rights.” The threat was enough to muzzle her. Abi looked away, jaw tight in annoyance. “That’s what I thought.”

I was minutes away from Pacus Hex’s house, but Abi couldn’t remain silent for long. “Krios, wait,” she said, hot on my heels again.

I showed her the cuffs one more time. “I meant it, Ms. Abicolus. As I’ve reminded you three times now, I have a job to do. Do not get in my way.”

She waved my threat away. “I didn’t plan for this, ah, _fracas,”_ she said, gesturing between us. “It just happened. I’m sorry. Can we start over?”

An apology? Interesting. “Ms. Abicolus-”

“You baited me. You’re too much of an asshole for your own good, you know? You just have this face.” Abi squinted at it, then shook her head. “Seriously, it’s so smug.”

“I think we’re done,” I replied and shoved my hands in my pockets before I shoved her into the bushes that lined the path.

“It’s just-” She rubbed her crest, nervous now. “I don’t know if I can trust you. I don’t know if I have the luxury to chose if I can, but you’re all I have. I don’t know where else to go.”

I would dismiss her for a drama queen, if it wasn’t for the very fact her subvocals thrummed with anxiety. “Get on with it, then.”

Abi leaned down, and I felt her hot breath on my frills. “This goes all the way to top, and I am in shit if they find out I know.” She whispered the words now, still frightened by something. “Like, Blackwatch secret service levels of shit.”

 _Blackwatch_. There is no such thing as coincidence. What did she mean by invoking the big, bad boogeymen? Was she telling the truth?

Time to get to the point. “Does this have anything to do with the missing children or the murder of the Kaeruns Abtion?” I asked. She opened her mouth once then shut it. “Abi- if you know something, tell me. Three children are missing because of this. I can protect you from whatever it is you think is out to get you. Let me help.”

I said the wrong thing. Abi straightened, then dusted an imaginary speck of something from her armour. “I’m not telling you shit,” she said. “First, I’m going to see if you’re connected to them. And if you’re not, I’ll come find you. I know where you’re staying.”

What a pointless exercise indulging her had been. I huffed out all the air in my lungs, annoyed at the waste of my time. “Fascinating,” I replied. “I’ll wait on the shore for your return from the sea, heart in my hands. Now, fuck off. You’re in the middle of a homicide investigation and a triple kidnapping case, and I’ve reached my limit.”

She threw her arms in the air in frustration, as annoyed with me as I was of her. “Seriously, how are you still alive? The sludge from the hydroponic farms has more charisma than you do.”

Why, why was she still here? “Goodbye, Ms. Abicolus. And this better be one.”

Abi snorted. “Whatever. But I can give you one hint, yeah? Watch the local news tonight. Pay attention to what is said.” More vague nonsense, delightful. I refused to look back and carried on walking, but Abi hadn’t finished. “Oh, and Krios?” she said.

I sighed, stopping in my tracks. “Which part of _fuck off_ was so hard to translate?”

“Have some free advice; don’t trust anyone here, not even the cops. I don’t know how deep this goes.”

She left me then, walking back the way I had come. A feeling of cold dread sunk in my gut, a knife to my plans. _To the ocean floor and back_ , I wanted to say to her. That’s how deep it usually is; there was always something out of my control, no matter the plan.

This time I wouldn’t sink like stone.

 


	11. Crater's Edge

FEDORIAN CRESCENT, DAY 2  
_13:02 pm_

 The journalist’s parting shot unnerved me, more than I let her know. I was too annoyed to double back and shake information out of Abi, even if knew I could get more out of her.

_-easy to understand, Krios,’ Haron said, as we walked the beat together at a steady pace. ‘Assume nothing. Believe nobody. Check everything, follow the-_

I had spent most of the morning distracting myself from thoughts of Blackwatch and the shooting, burying myself in grieving families and witness statements. It was needed for the case of course, but I knew I was avoiding something I shouldn’t.

If Abi was right, then whatever political shitstorm the turians were brewing put this colony at the centre of it all and threatened to drag me under thanks to one wayward bullet. Not that it paid to trust local hacks of course, but something about her words wormed their way under my scales; Abi was scared, but of what?

It seemed mysterious shooters were now a recurring theme in my life. Bailey had sent me away until the notoriety of the Ward Killer’s murder blew over, saying Epiteia was good for my career; I would return back to Zakera once I had solved the case, even if this place felt like my punishment.

But there was pride and there was stupidity. Adaraka had found the possible shooter’s identity, even if it was faked; Abi warned me about-

_-some free advice,’ she said. ‘Don’t trust anyone here, not even the cops. I don’t know how deep this-_

Assume nothing, follow the evidence. Believe nobody, check everything. The path was clear and showed no one in a click of my location. With a sigh, I flicked up my omni-tool and called the one person I knew I could trust in the universe alone. “It’s me,” I said. “It’s important.”

“You better be using my personal line for a reason,” Commander Bailey replied, barely looking at the screen. The quality was terrible, but omni-calls often were. He looked like an orange ball of scowling fuzz, features barely in focus.

I cleared my throat. Bailey knew about the shooting, but I couldn’t run away and hide in work like I usually did. “Do you have any contacts in Blackwatch?”

The line flickered before he answered, but I still heard his very human exasperation. “Kolyat, what have you done now?” he said. “I’m still cleaning up after your last mess- you’re lucky you got Vakarian investigating you.”

It was the very answer I didn’t want to hear; that Bailey said it was a stab to my pride. I did not like relying on people, especially commanding officers. Would I always be going through life with my hands held out? Would I always make mistakes, no matter how hard I tried?

I did not want help- I needed it, and the thought stuck in my throat like a fish bone. “The shooting,” I said, trying to swallow. “Maybe-”

He held up a finger before he spoke, looking at something off-screen. I could see him moving somewhere safe to talk, and I recognised the bathroom stall of his office in the background. “OK, go.”

“Yesterday there was a plain clothed Blackwatch agent on the colony,” I said. “Before I could tail him, I was shot at. I’m beginning to think the two are related.”

Bailey pinched his nose. “With that level of thinking I can see why we made you detective.”

At least he didn’t question my judgement in what I saw, even if the jab hurt. I swallowed my annoyance before speaking again. “There’s more. A journalist here says that she has information on something Blackwatch related, but she doesn’t trust me. Her name’s Menetina Abicolus; do you think you could find out if-”

“Do I look like an information broker, _DI Krios_?” he said, staring right at me.

My recent promotion was spat back like an insult. Despite our years of knowing each other, Bailey was still my superior. I knew a line when I saw one, and I had crossed it. “No sir.”

“Good. I’ll see what I can do this end in regards to your new friends. Don’t do anything stupid, do you hear me? I sent you to that colony to keep you quiet, son- not make a mess. Bailey out.”

I stared at the disconnected screen for too long. I was seventeen and in his office again, angry and lost. Then he sent me to scrub graffiti from walls that stunk of interspecies piss and called it community service. Now I had an entirely different level of bodily fluids to deal with, only this time I couldn’t blame it on my father or the universe.

There was a reason I was on Epiteia. I was DI here, and it came with a responsibility I would see through to the end. I would do things right. I would-

_-proud of you,’ Bailey said, smiling. ‘You’re going to make a great detective.’ At his approval, I blinked my eyes several times to hide my reaction, embarrassed the words had affected me so mu-_

A clang of metal on metal jolted me from my thoughts; I had arrived at Pacus Hex’s place of residence. Seven skycars littered the path, and a small carrier was held up by a mass effect ramp in the garage.

The place smelt so strongly of rust and metal my nose twitched; he clearly worked from home, though the house seemed lifeless compared to the noise and light of the attached garage. Hex pressed a button to pull the vehicle down, eyeing me curiously as he got out the way. I stood by the entrance to wait for him to come to me, my back to his work. “Don’t get your sort here often,” he said, once the clanking and whirring had stopped.

Was he going to call me an animal like he did Officer Sully? _Your sort_ was bad enough. “Sure you have,” I replied. “Got the police records to prove it, too.”

He looked away, hands under the carrier again. “I got shit to do. You lost, officer?”

“I can assure you, I’m right where I need to be.” I put my hands behind my waist so my uniform stuck out, plastering on a smile. “I’m here to ask you a few questions if you’ve the time for it.”

Hex swept his eyes on the C-Sec logo painted in the middle of my chestpiece. “Depends.”

“This won’t take long. I’m DI Krios of the Citadel Security Services.” I pulled out my omni-ID with a flick, and Hex shook his head, still confused why I was here. “I’m here to investigate the disappearance of the three local children. You’re on record as giving a previous statement.”

Hex rubbed his dirty talons on a rag from his pocket before speaking, looking me over again. “The local cops didn’t think much of whatever I said. They never do,” he replied, bitter at something.

_-him.’ Officer Sully gagged at the mention. ‘Our local arsehole-_

“I’m here to investigate their disappearance for the first time, so apologies if you have to answer the same questions again,” I said, bringing the conversation back on topic. “You mentioned in your statement you saw Pliva Duvitus the day she went missing.”

“The snob’s brat? Yeah. She was walking along the edge of the forest. All the kids from the road below play near here, or used to, anyways.”

“Would you mind telling me what you saw, exactly?”

“Why bother?” He sat down heavily by a desk loaded with tools and dirty rags tucked to the side of the garage. I could see a handgun framed on the wall, just above a cheap bottle of dextro whiskey; he looked at it, then at me.

“I wouldn’t,” I said, a casual hand on my own at my waist. “Getting real bored of being shot at.”

“Oh please,” he replied, snorting at my reaction. “As if.”

I wondered how often he sat there, staring at his mounted pistol with a bottle of self-medication close by, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t ask. Hex was the most important witness of the investigation so far, and I had to push him to see if he would break.

“How often do you drink?” I said, nodding at the bottle of Drossix Black.

“Who gives a shit if I do?” Just to prove a point, he poured himself a shot. “As long as I do my job, no one cares. I’d offer you one but I don’t think it would agree with your stomach.”

Even if there was something levo, I wouldn’t take it. His answer to my question was very turian, however. The Hierarchy did not care whatever you put into your system; as long as you still functioned as a member of their society, you could do what you wanted.

“Unfortunately for you, I care,” I said. “Because you’re the one person that saw Pliva Duvitus last, and it fucks over everything that's been said. So. Do you still stand by your statement?”

At my cursing, he startled; not enough for him to be completely cooperative, but enough now to talk. “Maybe. Depends.”

“On what?” I replied, exasperated. I watched him pour another shot and knock it back, twisting the cap back on with a click.

“On how much you piss me off." His voice was rough from the alcohol. “I already answered this shit for the pyjack, anyway.”

I put my hands behind my back and shoved down my anger. “I’d rather you tell me again, though this time without the disrespect to my colleague. I’d appreciate your help; so would the families of the missing children, I imagine.”

He at least looked sorry, even if his hand was on the bottle again. “Yeah? Like they give a fuck about me.”

“They don’t, probably.” He snorted at my reaction; I could see he was debating another drink, though this time pushed it away. “But the kids are still missing,” I said. “I’d like you to think back on that day; what did you see during the hours of eleven and twelve on the first of the month?”

He said nothing, idly fiddling with a socket wrench on the table. I tried a different angle; there was nothing lying around in the garage that screamed soldier, but I knew it was a button to push. “That handgun- looks standard issue. Why is it framed?”

“It belonged to a friend,” he replied. He looked at the floor, away from me. “I lost mine. I keep it as a reminder.”

Past tense. _Belonged._ “Where did you serve?”

“Palaven, 3156th Legion.” No more was given; with the ones that saw the worst of it, you were lucky to even get that. “And you, drell? What did you do? Heard your people did okay.”

The bitterness was something I had heard before. Kahje had relatively little damage compared to the rest of the galaxy’s homeworlds; it put the Illuminated Primacy in a new position of power, post War. They had resources and food, and were currently skimming a profit from both, even ‘helping’ with reparations to nations in need.

“I was on the Citadel,” I said. “Not on Kahje.”

My words meant nothing to him; most people assumed I was there to hold something for a hanar, even out here on the colonies. “Right. The explosion,” he said, amused by something I failed to grasp. “Got away safe and sound, did you?”

_-red burned my retinas as the Wards came apart with a shudder, the stench of the dead so strong I could taste it. My fins slammed the wall behind me as my vision went dark, pain-_

I didn’t want to take part in the ‘who had it worse’ game; this had gone on long enough. “If it makes you feel better,” I said. “Go ahead, imagine that.”

He looked away. “You can’t forget things either, can you? Weird drell shit, or something.”

_-stack the turians there, and the humans by the fountain,’ T’Lori said, tagging a body bag with his omni-tool. ‘We haven’t got a pile for the hanar yet, do you think-_

Hex was more travelled than I thought. “Not many people in the universe know what an eidetic memory is.”

Whatever I had said prompted something else, since he was smiling. “I knew a drell in Terminus back when I worked there, old drinking buddy,” he said, a talon against his own glass. “Tried selling bottles of his own piss one time. Said it was like Weeping Heart, but better.”

I had to laugh; though I was never far from a Weeping Heart anecdote during a conversation, Hex’s was at least new, even to me. “And did he actually sell any?” I asked.

“No, everyone knew what it was. Crazy guy, used to be a miner or something, but an asteroid blew up his colony. Never talked about it much.”

“Sounds like Belan. You never know, he might be back there- It’s been patched back together like Epiteia has.”

“Hah, he’s probably still on that shithole of a station, drinking his gizzard away- if you guys even have gizzards. Not heard from him since the-” Hex looked away. “You know how it is.”

I sighed heavily, hands on my hips as he avoided my gaze again. “Look, I don’t care if you hate cops,” I said, squinting at him. “And I don’t care what this place thinks of you. But what I do care about is getting the bastards who took the kids.”

Hex pushed his glass away in a huff and reached for another rag to wipe his hands again. “Ask your questions, cop. I got a thruster to put back together, so make it quick.”

Turned out he really did see Pliva Duvitus alone by herself. “She had some toys with her. Some kind of doll, and a gun, looked like. Wasn’t paying attention, didn’t want to-” Hex stared at the carrier, swallowing his words. “Probably imagined it. I see shit everywhere it shouldn’t be.”

At that I looked up from my omni-tool, pausing the upload of his statement. There went the credibility of my witness, sailing through the open door. “What did you think you saw?” I said, trying to keep the rising panic out of my voice.

“Toys, I guess. The kids use the forest path as their playground. With no fucking adults around to keep an eye on them, who does that?”

No one around here will again, not for a long time. “I’ll put toys in the statement,” I replied. I hoped to the Gods he was stable enough to stand as a witness because that little conversation slip alone painted him as unreliable. “I had a plastic pistol as a child,” I said, closing my omni-tool. “It made hideous noises.”

_-did you get that, Kolyat?’ She snatched it from her hands and I looked away. I knew Mami did not like guns, and she did not want me to have them. ‘You better tell me the tru-_

“You got any vid-feeds installed or anything on the skycars outside?” I asked, gesturing behind me.

“Nah. Used to have one hooked up, but it’s all for show now.”

It was often the case with small businesses, but it was worth a shot. “The statement is enough for now. Best of luck to you.”

Hex waved me off and went back to his work, talons blackened again with thruster fluid. “Yeah, yeah. Go away, I got work to do.”

“I recommend you drink less, Mr. Hex,” I said over my shoulder, shoving my hands in my pockets. “If only for your stomach.”

There was nothing to do but walk back. I didn’t want to remove Sully from the families if she was still there- her observations may make or break the case. A family liaison officer I had worked with earlier in the year put away a murderer. Officer Huma spotted the husband of the victim buying a new omni-tool, and we traced it the hitman he employed as soon as we could.

As I tried to work out how to get back to the station alone, Adaraka called my omni-tool. “Detective?” I said, peering at his holo on the screen. “You found something at the orphanage?”

“Something better.” Adaraka looked remarkably pleased with himself, despite our last conversation at the meeting. “We got our weapon. Got the rifle, you’ll be pleased to hear. ID matches the one Abtion had registered.”

“Good.” Finally, something had gone my way. “Only took you a day.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied with a chuckle, ignoring the jab. “Figured you’d want to know straight away. Found it in the back of a burnt out skycar on the edge of the colony. Got the call in this morning, someone saw the wreck at 6:05, thereabouts. Sent Terix back to station and called CSI in already. Waiting for Vulis to show.”

“Anything on the vehicle?” I asked.

“Not yet. Looks like an old Z-7; Silver and blue, maybe? I don’t know, it’s pretty burnt out.”

He sent pictures over immediately, and I loaded them up in files around the vidcall. “Well, shit.”

_-a tall, tan plated turian caught my eye. He lingered by an impressively bland Z-7, and I leaned against the shadows of building; I knew what he was as soon as he was free of the skycar, despite his-_

“You can tell me more soon,” I said, trying to compare the image to the memory. “Could do with a pick up. I’m around Fedorian Crescent still.”

“Alright, I’ll swing by once CSI turns up. Adaraka out.”

I checked yesterday's files while I waited, trying my best to look inconspicuous on a cul-de-sac. The vid-feeds of the street Sergeant Galnius had gathered after my near miss with a bullet were finally uploaded, and I watching the Blackwatch agent before the signal had ruptured the image. The skycar he used could be the same vehicle Adaraka had sent from the scene, but Z-7s were common; especially in colonies.

A missed vidcall from Oriana sat in my inbox and I opened it up as soon as could, closing the case files with a swipe. I needed a break, and even if she was still angry with me, I’d take whatever I could get.

The quality was terrible, worse than my holocall to Bailey. Ori was dressed in what I called her Legion armour, a tight dress tailored to highlight her waist and give the illusion of a cowl around her collarbone; she wore it when she dealt with turian clients in a calculated effort to put them at ease. Oriana chose to accommodate other cultures. I refused to, mostly so I could use their discomfort against them.

“Hey Kol,” she said eventually, once the vid had buffered. “Just to let you know I’m off the Citadel soon. I’m going to be-” the line jerked and flickered, static eating her words. She was going to Morioh, then; her latest colony to poke into action. She bit her lip, frowning at the screen. “-don't know when I can get to speak to you, commlines are out again on half the Wards, goddamn Citcast. Anyway, I should see you in maybe a-”

The screen flickered again. “-and Bailey and Bats are on Fish duties. There’s a rota and everything,” she said, and the vid crumbled into orange fuzz. I missed whatever was said next thanks to Gods damned static; the vid paused itself on her half smile, though the audio spooled on.

“Anyway. You’re still an arsehole," she said. “But we should probably have one of those conversations we’ve been avoiding when we’re in the same system, yeah? See you soo-”

_-pushed the hair back, placing a kiss where her frill would be and-_

A carrier flew over my head and touched down by Sully’s cruiser. With a sigh, I gave up trying to watch her vid again and hopped into the still running vehicle. “Krios,” Adaraka said, nodding. “CSI is still at the scene, told them we’ll be back.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask about Abi but I pushed it aside. There would be time after the crime scene, I'd make sure there was. “How did the orphanage go, anyway?” I asked.

Adaraka looked at me once, unsure what to say. “A whole lot of nothing.” He shrugged over the controls, on the edge of saying something. “Just small things that don’t seem connected, but-”

“But?”

“Not really written the report yet. I got distracted by finding the rifle,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll have it done after we’re finished at the scene.”

_Bathtub, rifle, legion, missing._

I looked at him as he drove, eyes intent on the skyline. “What stuck out the most? About the orphanage, I mean.”

“He was not a liked man, our victim.” Adaraka silenced the radio with his omni-tool, and we both ignored the chatter of a speeding skycar in a residential area. “Kaeruns Abtion may have done the gardens for free there, but he was rude to the children. He was fired recently, as much as you can fire a volunteer, anyway.”

In the grand scheme of things, it was hardly news. “And?”

Something in my tone made him defensive, and he was keen to show whatever scrapings he found. “The Aberdas family are adopting another kid too, so the careworker says. They’re halting the process until Vitelia is found.”

“Because seven children is not enough,” I said, both brows raised. “Admirable, but insane. That really all you have for me?”

“They get money from the state for adoptions, until the kids reach boot camp.” I got what he was implying, but dismissed it. I did not think Rix Aberdas adopted children left and right for the extra money; his children were too well cared for and loved for that.

“Find out anything else?” I said.

“That’s it, sorry- bit of a dead end.” We passed over the lake again, never too far away from the damn thing. “You still going into that?” he asked, seeing my gaze. “Please don’t order me to go as well, I don’t do water.”

I gave him a look. “Then don’t give me ideas.” I had no illusions we would find anything, but a carrier capable of diving was not to be sniffed at for a missing persons case.

“It’s deeper than it looks,” he said. “They never closed the fissures from the ice melt when it was filled up, goes down quite a ways.”

Our crime scene was a burnt out skycar on the edge of a crater, abandoned under a flickering advertisement board announcing a soon to be built street of houses. A perimeter of holotape had been set up alongside a decon tent, and I could see CSI Vulis kneeling by the open hatch.

The smell of burnt plastic and burning fuel cells greeted me before she did. “DI Krios,” she said eventually, not getting up from her work. “Whoever did this was careful, like the last scene. This vehicle was cleaned before it was set fire to; there’s evidence of a sodium hypochlorite solution used both inside and outside, but I’ve managed to pick up a few blots of DNA from the scanners.”

No matter how fast technology improved, basic bleach could still wreck crime scenes. I watched as she set up her omni-tool to luminol-mode, and leaned in to follow the trail it left. At her puzzled look, I gestured to my face. “I can see ultraviolet,” I said. “Useful for crime scenes. Got permanent lenses in my eye, it’s an operation some drell get to understand the hanar better. The reactions from the luminol you’re throwing around shows up for me.”

“You’re in the wrong branch of police work, DI Krios, that’s rather handy for CSI. Mind you, my visor does the same.” Vulis pointed at the scrolling text hovering over one eye. “Without the need for invasive surgery.”

I shrugged, shoving my hands in my pockets. “The operation is offered for free at schools on Kahje; most kids take it, mainly because you need half a week to recover. I got to lie around and watch vids all day instead of lessons, of course I had it done.”

CSI types were often more talkative when there were no murder victims around, funnily enough. All we had was a skycar to mourn, and neither of us was inclined to care too deeply about a ruined Z-7. “That’s extreme, even for the laziest of pupils,” Vulis said, amused by my story. “You strike me as the academic kind, DI Krios- I’m shocked.”

I’m not sure why people always assumed I was studious. I had to retake failed exams when I came to the Citadel, if only so I could attend C-Sec Academy after. “I’ll leave the thinking to the CSIs, I’m only a cop.”

“Hey now,” said Adaraka. “Sometimes we can find our own asses without CSI pointing it out as circumstantial evidence.”

“I do so like a good map. Know where you are with a map from a CSI. It’s reassuring,” I said, adjusting the collar of my jacket.

Vulis looked over her visor at us both, blue eyes sharp again. “If you comedians have finished,” she said. “Because I nearly have. Not much here, unfortunately.”

I watched the luminol fade from my vision in wisps of silver, frowning. Our murderer was clever enough to destroy most of the evidence, but this struck me as a hasty job- despite the use of bleach. “You found anything else?” Adaraka asked, squinting into the backseat of the skycar.

“I can only tell you what’s here.” Vulis handed over the bagged evidence to Adaraka, who gave it straight to me. The plastic and metal of the rifle barrel was charred and bent from the fire, but the ID code was just about visible. “Annoying it belonged to the victim,” she said. “Common technique, sadly- but a sensible one.”

I hummed in disagreement. “Common for turians, maybe. To me, it suggests that the victim knew their murderer, or they had easy access to the weapon.”

Turians viewed their guns as their own, an extension of themselves. Almost all adults had some form of weaponry, even if it was only a leftover from their service. Some assumed -especially those involved in domestic incidents- that not using their gun would be enough. The logic of it was the strangest thing, but not the weirdest I’d come across so far in my career; I'd dealt with too many elcor for that.

Adaraka cocked his head, shrugging at us both. “His gun locker was broken into. But if we use your theory, then our perp should be easy to find. Kaeruns Abtion was not-”

“-well liked, I know.” I mirrored his shrug, looking up at him as he stood by me. “That’s not enough for murder, even if he was an asshole with no friends. Abtion was at the scene of the kidnapping; I got a witness who puts our victim near the last known location of the missing children.”

Vulis looked up from her work, crouched over the open door still. “I’ll find you something substantial if only to confirm that as the murder weapon. The bullet fragments will be easy to trace to it, even if we have the matching serial number already.”

“Anything else?” I asked, putting the rifle back where it belonged.

“Scrambled biocodes and bleach, and the usual soils found around here. It’s all I have for now.” Vulis stood from her work, wincing as her body protested from crouching too long. “I did find a couple of flakes of moxie scale, though. Whoever owned the skycar had one, or came in contact with one recently.”

At least it was something. “I know they’re a common pet, but the community is still small enough for us to check.”

Vulis shook her head at me, resting her hands behind her back. “The immigration laws don’t allow for pets on the colony yet,” she replied. “If someone has one of the damned things, it’s illegal.”

“Not a moxie fan?” said Adaraka, over the glow of his omni-tool. “You strike me as the type, CSI Vulis.”

I knew an insult when I heard it; a middle-aged woman with only a pet for company translated as sad to all species. Vulis shot Adaraka such a filthy look that it cut through the lights of her visor, and I had to hide a smile. “Certainly not,” she said, spitting the words back at him. “Disgusting creatures, why would I? You have to clean up after them. I do enough of that for work.”

“I take it back. You’re not the moxie sort,” he said, grinning at her. He pulled his arm up to show me his omni-tool. “I found twelve Z-7s registered on the colony. Time to go pay the owners a visit.”

“I have a human moxie,” I said, ignoring the blurry list Adaraka shoved under my nose. I felt an idiot saying it out loud, considering their politely baffled reactions. “Ah, it’s called a cat, obviously. Since humans don’t have moxies. It’s a pet, sort of.”

“Glad you clarified,” Adaraka said, shuddering. “I just thought of Sully with ears and plates.”

I handed the bagged scrap of moxie DNA back to Vulis, who still looked at me curiously. “It’s about as interactive as a houseplant, to be honest. All it does is sleep and eat. Costs me a fortune in specialist food every month, and the fur gets everywhere.”

_-her tail flicked once as I ran a finger along a twitching ear. A low rumble came from Fish then, reminding me of my uncle’s muttering during his bioball games. Ori paused her piano practise, amused. ‘You keep that up and she’s going to-_

“Sounds like my ex,” Adaraka said, grinning. “Anyway. I’ll start on the list,” he said to me, gesturing to his omni-tool. “You want me to drop you off somewhere?”

“I’ll be going soon too. Not much else to find here,” said CSI Vulis, packing up her tools. “But if I was the assuming sort-”

“-and you’re not,” I replied, finishing for her. I was well aware of CSI Vulis's aversion to assumptions, she made that very clear from our first meeting. “Obviously.”

She smiled, allowing me the interruption. “If, I said,” Vulis replied, pointing a finger at me. “I’d bet my dinner this skycar came from off colony.”

“Hmm, no raise from me.” I slapped a startled Adaraka on the shoulder. “Drop me off at my prefab, I got a carrier to dunk into a lake. Feel free to contact me with anything, CSI Vulis,” I said to her, nodding once.

She returned the gesture with an elegant version of her own. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find something. Good hunting, detectives.”

“As Amonkira wills it,” I replied. The words left my mouth before I could stop them, a response to the prayers lodged in my memories. It was always Amonkira that reminded me the most of my father, not Kalahira. Not all the memories were painful. Sometimes I could recall the good, and-

_-guided my hand to you,’ he said. The tight feeling in my chest had returned and I felt six years old again. ‘I know you don’t believe as strongly, but I truly felt His guidance that-_

“-I did some research.” Adaraka cleared his throat, and I felt his eyes on me. We drove the skycar over the lake again, and I could see the route I had run last night. “I was curious.”

“On what?” I said.

“On your Amonkira. Brutal guy by the way, not exactly merciful. I liked the Goddess of Found Things the best, though- now there’s a girl you’d talk to in a bar, if you could buy a Goddess a drink, anyway.”

He was given a look. Technically Sheika was the Goddess of Enchantment, a trickster no drell would be foolish enough to seek guidance from. “Good for you. I know a priest if you’re interested,” I replied, enough sarcasm to let him know that the conversation was at an end.

Adaraka took the hint. Even if his little extranet search on drell deities was mostly harmless, I was in no mood for it- but I still had to work with him. “I spoke to Ms. Abicolus again,” I said, breaking the awkward silence.

_-whatever Abi had said to him had rattled his carapace. ‘Problems with the journalist?’ I said, and-_

He sighed heavily. “Ah, shit. She still bothering you?”

 “I’m used to journalists,” I stared at my hands on my lap.

_-she looked down the lonely path I came from. ‘No Adaraka this time? Shame, he’s my-_

Adaraka smiled at me; if he was familiar with Abi in the ways she said, he didn’t show it. “You mean to tell me that one little writer is a problem for you, Krios?”

_-don’t trust anyone, not even the cops-_

“Not at all. I told her the usual.”

“What, ‘ _wait for a press release’_ and ‘ _no comment’_? _’_ ’ he asked.

“Exactly so,” I said, keeping my features as smooth as I could. “All part of the job.” I looked out the window and watched the treeline blur in shades of red and brown.

The journey was quiet after that. “Well. Good luck with the lake,” he said, watching me leave his cruiser. “If only for being stuck in a small space with Galnius. Don’t get him started on his little models, he won’t shut up if you do.”

I watched his cruiser fly off, unsure if I said the right thing. Abi told me not to trust anyone; she was also an obnoxious hack of a journalist with all the empathy levels of vent mold, so who knows if whatever fell out of her mouth was the truth or not.

Detective Adaraka _may_ have slept with her, but frankly, in a small community surrounded by families and retirees, I wondered if I could blame him for it. Epiteia was no place for a young detective, especially one as promising as Adaraka, even if he was a cocky son of a bitch.

But if I found out Abi had access to information because he was loose with his tongue, well. I would serve him to his superiors myself, of that I had no problem. Ruthless journalists could ruin cases; C-Sec shooed them away for a reason.

Blackwatch, the kidnappings, the contradicting witness statements, the murder weapon- there was a decidedly sloppy touch to everything, despite the presence of the Hierarchy’s boogeymen prowling the colony; why were they here- would I be able to trace the skycar at the scene back to them?

Thrice fuck it, why was _I_ here, for that matter. All I could to do was wait for the fuck up to come -and my perp would fuck up again soon, of that I had no doubt- before whatever political shitstorm decided to rain down on me.

So much for a quiet job on the colonies. Bailey was wrong again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a[ tumblr,](https://autodiscothings.tumblr.com/) if you want to say hello. I post a fair amount of art of the characters on it, as well as fill in a few writers prompts/asks.


	12. The Unassuming Waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gentle reminder to check the tags and the rating before reading.

LAKE VICTORY, DAY 2  
 _14:45 pm_

My UT-47 Kodiak could house a small squadron if I wanted it to, but I only used the extra space as a mobile home. A double bed and kitchen could be pulled down, though Ori and I had used it all of it once so far, which had technically been work for her anyway. We had one weekend off the Citadel last year to visit a fledgling asari colony, and I pushed aside the memory of her awful singing as I ignored the empty seat next to me.

I managed to eat two ration bars and gulp a mouthful of tea as I drove to the meeting point Sergeant Galnius sent me. I could see a smaller turian-made carrier by the lakeside when I got there, parked by a bench meant for picnics. Galnius had a box of tools and a water drone on it, ready and waiting to attach to my UT.

He reacted like a child would to my vehicle, all wide-eyed joy and flailing limbs. “This is the highlight of my week,” he said, patting the roof as soon as I got out. Galnius nudged me with a shoulder, his beady eyes still on my carrier. “Kodiaks are marvels, aren’t they?”

I decided to humour him. “We’re slowly incorporating them into C-Sec,” I said. “Mainly for Special Service Vehicles. By 2195 most of our carriers will be human, or so I’m told.”

“Ha! But fair play to the humans, who knew they could build?”

_-don’t you give me that smug drell shit,’ she said, smiling. A soft leg draped over mine and I pulled her closer. ‘We invented medi-gel, you know-_

“Did you do what I asked?” I said. “No time to read your report between here and the crime scene.”

“Hmm?” he said, tearing his gaze from the vehicle, barely acknowledging my words. He walked around the back to check the thrusters, ignoring the question. “These Nashan Stellar contragravity propulsions, lad? Not seem them up close, I wonder if you could shave a bit off the boosters to make ‘em go faster.”

“I’d give you two a moment,” I said, “but we’re on a schedule.”

“Oh! Right. Sorry.” Galnius made his way back to me, hands shoved under his arms. “No luck with chasing up our victim’s old Legion, a lot of them are dead. But I managed to check his call logs- Abtion only made three calls this week. Most interesting one was to Menae two days ago. Who knew he had contacts there?”

Well, fuck. “You positive about Menae?” The horizon glittered in stars despite the fake blue of the sky, and I wondered which one was Palaven.

“Had to use a bit of the ol’ Galnius charm, but I got it done,” he replied, nudging me with a grin. “Military grade omni-tools usually come from there, apparently- the unregistered ones, anyway. Well, usually. We’re going to have to go further up the ladder to sign off for complete access to the data if you want to make sure.”

Of course I had to make sure, it was my job. Was this another stab of Hierarchical fuckery pissing on my investigation again? Gods thrice fuck it, why was I even here? Why couldn’t the turians clean up their own damn mess? “Shit.”

“I find the higher it all goes, the less of a problem it is for me,” Galnius replied. He shifted under my glare, smile falling off his face as soon as he realised what he said. “Ah, or so I’ve been told, sir. Anyway, give me a moment to attach the drone to the back. I can control it from the inside once we’re in the water.”

It took him five minutes of fiddling as I sat and waited, sipping the dregs of my cold tea inside the carrier. Galnius was about ready to explode with excitement at the thought of taking off, but he kept his arms crossed. I assumed it was to stop himself from touching everything in sight, though he allowed himself a gentle pat on the dashboard before I connected to the haptic interface.

“Is it just us searching the water?” I asked. Lake Victory was 200km in length, and there was no chance we could cover it all in a day. The plan was to circle the deepest gulley of the lake, where the fissures cracked the bedrock like a broken mirror.

Galnius nodded. “I have volunteers circling a section to scan the surface with their drones, and there’s a small party walking the paths further up.”

“I’ve requested a diving team,” I said. “Not just drones. We’ll see if we can get it.” The captain said the budget only allowed for what they had, but perhaps my C-Sec connections could push for more.

“We know the length and depth of the lake, the drones saw to that. Used to be two craters overlapping the other, did you know? Epiteia took quite a battering from the meteors centuries ago.”

Subconsciously, I looked to the skies, and Galnius laughed. “Don’t worry sir, I’m sure the Hierarchy will let us know before a comet comes crashing down. That’s what we pay the astronomists for.”

I snorted in disbelief. “If you say so,” I said, thinking of the shitstorm I was in.

Galnius hummed to himself, content to enjoy the ride. “They cleared the forest around the edge and added some saplings,” he said, pointing out a row of spindly twigs held up with sticks and bindings near the shoreline. “Heard they were shipping in animals soon, that’ll be nice.”

“They’re everywhere,” I said, eyes on the forest again. “The red trees, I mean.” I could’ve pulled out my omni-tool and checked myself, but I assumed he would know, considering the conversation. I found the brightness of the branches literally alien to my senses, and against the blue of the horizon, it made my eyes water.

“Oh, the maesia? Us turians like our maesia trees a great deal; red is our colour for waiting, and for sadness. They’re trees for romance, lad.” I shrugged inwardly at the information drop; colour meanings were cultural, even when narrowed to a single species.

“Lad?” I snorted at the misnomer. “Better than boy, I suppose.”

_-look, kid, the sooner it’s over, the sooner you can come back,’ Bailey said over his holoscreen. ‘It’ll take you a week, tops-_

“-apologies, DI Krios. I can’t lose my Gothis phrasing for the life of me, I meant no harm in it.”

I didn’t have a problem with the occasional lad from someone as soft as Galnius. “That’s what the accent is, huh? What my translator tells me is one, anyway.” He had a very musical way of speaking compared to the other turians I’d met, that’s for sure.

“We’ve a reputation for lovely speaking voices,” he said, smiling. Galnius cleared his throat, ready to prove his point. _“Red are the limbs of my lover/ Red are the limbs of the tree/ Red is the strain of my sorrow/ Oh bring him back to me.”_

I recognised the cadence and rhythm of a poem, even if I was unfamiliar with turian literature. “Hope you’re not waiting for long, sergeant.”

“Oh, not my words, sir. Vig Garix, a Gothis poet. Everyone’s surprised that turians can write them, especially on the scenery. We like a good tree, I find. You know where you are with a tree.”

What a strange man he was. Galnius wouldn’t be climbing the rungs of promotion any time soon, but underneath his somewhat lazy inclination was a gentle soul; one of life’s eternal desk sergeants, I suppose. Content to stay in the warm and file reports while the rest of us were crotch deep in actual police work.

“With drell, it’s either the desert or the ocean, no in between,” I said. “So many poems and prayers about the damn water.”

Galnius nodded, amused by the dismissal. “I know how you feel. Only so many ways you can describe a branch, I find,” he said. “Funny how it goes, though. You with the water, us with the trees.”

He let me drive in silence once we reached the edge of the entry point coordinates. In theory, I knew the Kodiak could take the pressure and the water of the lake, sealed off tightly in a singularity shield from both. Watercraft was the selling point of the model, even; the volus dealer took one look at my fins,assumed I would be in Kahje at some point and ruthlessly upsold me the bastard thing.

In practise, however, I was beginning to regret my choice. I would have to go underwater, and soon. Why did I think this was a good idea?

I hovered the Kodiak on autopilot, the thrusters causing the surface to ripple in circles around us. I had no choice but to use the VI to set up the entry, even if Sergeant Galnius was happy to do the work. I trusted VITA over him- the nerdish gleam in his eye he had for my carrier was unnerving.

“VITA connect, authority ZW-4576,” I said, poking at my omni-tool to wake her up.

At the noise coming from my wrist, Galnius startled. “That’s what Detective Adaraka was talking about,” he said, nodding at my onmi-tool. “Fancy.”

VITA talked over him the moment she could. “Good afternoon, Detective Krios. What can I do for you? Warning: current hygrometers are at 4.8, too high for a drell male your age.”

It was almost out of my mouth to tell her to fuck off, but I thought better of it. “Run diagnostics on all connected programs, as well as the engine and thrusters. Seal off the drivecore and check the pressure metrics for watercraft mode.”

“Certainly. Give me 54 seconds,” VITA replied. She now came from the speakers of the carrier, the expensive ones Oriana insisted I buy so she could listen to her squeaky human orchestras.

I grunted, annoyed I was using the damn thing. “She’s a piece of crap,” I replied to Galnius. “Hopefully it’ll be removed from C-Sec’s system soon.”

Galnius raised his brow. “Useful, though,” he said, pointing to the orange glow of VITA’s calibrations. “We’d have to do all this by hand.” Galnius sighed almost wistfully, as if I had taken a toy from him.

“She has her uses, no doubt. Just I don’t want her under my scales.” Constant monitoring from a VI under our skin rankled most of us in C-Sec, I can’t think why.

“Well,” Galnius said, checking his map on his own omni-tool. “We’re right above where we need to be, just on the edge of the fissures.”

“Diagnostics are done, Detective Krios,” VITA said. “Recon-probe is at 100% capability, fully charged; engine, thrusters, and drivecore are ready for submersion. Pressure metrics are functional.”

“What’s the battery on the probe?” Galnius asked me, but VITA answered before I could check.

“Under current water conditions, the probe can run for approximately 7.6 hours without charging, Sergeant Galnius.” The depths only knew how a VI knew his name. Galnius flinched at the mention; I would too, and could only offer a confused shrug to his unasked question.

“Ah, righto,” he replied, settling back into his seat. “Plenty of time.”

I breathed in heavily before speaking. “VITA, set journey to the imputed coordinates. Take us in when ready.”

“Certainly. It is recommended the pulldown barrier remains in place during submersion, and passengers remain seated at all times while the vehicle is underwater.”

“No shit,” I replied.

As soon as the carrier slowly sunk into the surface and the lake water battered the too clear windows, my heart tried to claw its way out of my ribcage. It took all the willpower I had to not hit the override and fly back out. “Ah, fuck.”

Galnius practically vibrated with excitement at the entry, oblivious to my reaction. “DI Krios you’re a wonder,” he said, shouting over the roar of the thrusters. “Never been underwater, turians aren't the swimming sort.”

I really didn’t want to look anywhere but the floor of the carrier, despite his enthusiastic pointing. I made a vague grunt in his direction, trying to keep the contents of my stomach in one place. I tried to think of nice memories- Oriana, my mother, sunsets, my first taste of chocolate. They appeared like the flicking of vid channels, a sensory overload I could not control in my panic at being underwater.

“Greener than I thought-”

The last memory faded, the sound of my mother’s pealing laughter as my uncle flicked her nose. We were now submerged; I checked the meter and discovered we were now 80 metres into the depths. We reached the point where even with my eye implants, the visibility was nonexistent.

“I wonder if anyone has been this deep?” I heard Galnius ask. I was too sick to answer.

We would have to rely on sonar and probes to guide us, no matter how bright the headlights were. The little lizard part of my brain still recoiled in horror at being trapped in a carrier underwater, and I tried to breathe through my nose. “Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I thrice fucking beg you;  _not yet._ ”

“You alright, lad?” said Galnius, finally noticing me. I had spoken my plea out loud, embarrassed by my own panic.

I must’ve looked how I felt and tried to pass it off. “Just a little motion sickness,” I replied, loosening the death grip I had on the haptic panel. “It’ll go, probably just the entry.”

Galnius offered me a half smile, clearly not buying it. “We’ll be fine. I trust the carrier to do its job and keep us safe, even if it is human-made.”

VITA perked up, apparently prompted by something. “Your heart rate is elevated for a drell male your age, Detective Krios. Would you like me to play some soothing music?”

“That would be just lovely,” said Galnius, squinting at the media interface. “What do y-”

“No.” That was it. I had reached the end of my patience, annoyed both with VIs and my own incessant panic. “Goodnight, VITA. Silence mode now.”

Now that the lights were on at full beam, I felt a little better. A cold hand still clenched the pits of my stomach, but at least I could attempt to admire the view Galnius kept pointing out. “It’s different with my own eyes,” he said. “So much the probes never show. Oh, would you like at that crackin’ basalt formation over there! Looks like someone carved it.”

I used to collect rocks as a child, though stopped around the time my mother died. I still retained the knowledge, and-

_-I paint the stone yellow. She liked yellow. It’s a present for my mami, not the sea. I do not understand why-_

-some of my collection was technically illegal, thanks to the Illuminated Primacy’s laws on leaving the beach as you found it. I even had a Prothean chunk of something, worn away over years to become a polished lump of conglomerate. It rests on my bookshelf to gather dust, next to my father’s books and my mother’s datapads; and for Fish to knock off, obviously.

Galnius’s background chatter eventually dulled away the ice in my chest. “Basalt is odd stuff under pressure,” I said, now that my stomach was out of my throat frills. “Where I grew up on Kahje there’s a shoreline of it, looks like a strange staircase.”

“There’s another cluster near the site they have marked for colony expansion northeast of here, if you’re interested. Outside the water, obviously,” he replied. “I take my sister’s lad there for a runabout every so often, almost like a playground.”

We were talking about rocks 100 metres underwater in an attempt to find three missing children. Such was my life now, it seemed. “What are we looking for, exactly?”

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Hopefully nothing. But we’ll see what we can find, hey?”

It was the obvious answer to a question I shouldn’t have asked. Turians had metal in their exoskeletons, and their corpses did not float to the surface and bloat as easily as other species. Whatever evidence at this depth would not be pretty.

“Are there any scavengers in the water?” I asked. “I don’t see any fish.”

Not that I was paying attention to anything but the floor at any point of our journey, but it didn’t hurt to have a suspicion confirmed. “The hydroponic lot haven’t gotten around to adding anything, really,” he replied. “Just algae and bacteria, so I was told. A few plants around the edge to promote oxygen, that sort of thing. Hope they do soon, I like the idea of fishing something. It’s what you’re meant to do with a lake, isn’t it?”

The light of the Kodiak caught fragments of the water like snow; we were 600 metres under now, no sign of any life but our own. The rest of the hour ticked by in relative silence as we floated across the lip of the shelf, marred by the occasional observation by Galnius.

I let the autopilot do all the work, glad for it. The jagged edge of the depths fell into blackness; I knew at this point we were on the second level of the lake’s thermocline. “I wonder what it’s like to swim,” he said, peering out of the window again.

“If the glass shattered at any point, either the bends or the temperature would kill us in seconds,” I replied, pointing out obvious. My stomach lurched again, and I tried to keep the meager contents on my stomach where they were with a deep breath.

“Stop.” Galnius held his hand in the air. He had spotted something on the vidscreen for the drone, and I hit the override so the carrier could tread water. “Looks like a crate,” he said, pointing out a square shape of something as the holo flickered into 3D.

I was impressed he found it, all I could see was a silt covered lump. “Nicely done, sergeant.”

Galnius grinned at the compliment. “Someone either dumped it here or it fell out of a carrier. Either way, lucky it got caught on the lip. Any lower and it’ll sink to the bottom of the fissure.”

We both watched the drone as a dot of light ahead of us, illuminating the particles in the murky water as it zipped towards the crate. “The scanners are picking up a bit of bio material,” I said. They usually picked up something, no matter what; for all I knew it could be old rations dumped in the water to rot.

“Might be something,” said Galnius. “Never know.”

“We can split the booty either way,” I said. “But if we take this up, we can’t take anything else. The winch only has so much room.”

He shifted in his seat, my piss-poor attempt at a joke sailing over his crest. “Ah, no. Scavenging is a crime here. We have to keep the thing until someone claims it, at least within a year. Your call regardless, DI Krios.”

We were a third of our way around our route, with over 120 kilometres of the fissure edge left to explore. The crate was the only thing we found that wasn’t rock fragments or garbage, even though I suspected the latter. If I was honest, I wanted to breathe fresh air again, happy to leave the waters with my dignity somewhat intact. “Let’s take it back,” I said. “It’s the most we have so far.”

Galnius squinted at the screen. “Looks like a standard anti-grav storage box,” he said, as the winch pulled it to the back of the carrier. The drone followed it closely, circling the chugging wire like a concerning mother. “Common for supplies around here.”

Once it was loaded, I lifted us up. The descent felt worse; even Galnius gripped the handrail as the carrier pushed itself to the surface. The cabin lights sharpened brighter and brighter to prepare us for the outside, but still we both had to squint at the horizon when the window finally broke the waterline.

“Fuck that,” I said before I could stop myself, my stomach in my throat again. “Thrice fuck it over.”

“That was a bit of fun.” Galnius nudged my shoulder, amused at my suffering. “We can do that again, once my ear canals stop popping. Though I think that might be psychosomatic, what say you? I’m sure the cabin pressure was even.”

Arashu spare me and my stomach from thrill seeking turians, I beg you. I almost wanted to hand over the keycodes and let him get on with the rest of the route, but the Kodiak was mine. “Let’s get back up in the air,” I said. “And dry out.”

We couldn’t take off until the water emptied itself from the thrusters. The carrier rumbled and hissed, rocking side to side. Galnius took one look at my pale frill and looked away before he said anything, amused. “Where to then?” he asked, as the haptic interface of the Kodiak lit up in green, finally still.

“The LZ where we met. Your vehicle have a decon unit?"

I got us there as soon as the carrier let me, water dripping from the windows in my haste to find solid ground. I felt a drop land on my frills as I lifted the door up, annoyed I couldn’t escape the damn stuff. “Son of a bitch.”

“I thought you came from Kahje,” he said, frowning at my reaction. “All that ocean.”

He was given  _a look_. “And yet, I chose to live on the Citadel,” I replied, shaking my jacket into place. “We can set up the decon tent before we do anything.” I nodded to the attached crate to the back of the Kodiak, dripping water still.

“Right you are.” Galnius headed to his cruiser to set it up, humming something ridiculously jaunty. “We doing this here?”

I shrugged. “As good a place as any.” Official procedure didn’t care about the location, especially considering all we found was an old crate; as long as there was a sheltered decontamination unit, we could set up an investigation anywhere.

Since my stomach had stopped twisting itself into my frills, I pulled on a pair of gloves out of my kit and got to work. Gingerly I touched the outside of the crate, wondering if there was damage inside. Anti-grav storage could handle the pressure of the vacuum of space, but water would erode the metal eventually, especially on the bottom of a lake.

“Not very heavy,” he said, helping me carry it to the tent he had set up. It was covered with a layer of orange and blue plastic, sturdy handles on either side. I assumed it was for food storage; most of the rations I was familiar with came in similar boxes.

The initial surface scan showed nothing out of the ordinary, but I was more interested in the logo stenciled on the plastic insert- it was some kind of looping spacecraft, and set an image search of it as soon as I could grab a clean shot.

 “It’s a Narhu Corp box,” said Galnius, looking at my work. “About a metre and a half wide, I’d say.”

He was given a mild look, and I snapped off my search with a finger swipe of my omni-tool. “They familiar around here?” I asked.

“They’re the company in charge of shipping the ice from the automines on Iritum.” He pointed vaguely at the planet in the horizon. “Everyone’s got a box or two lying around, if only for storage.”

Out of the interference of the water, the scanners could do their work. Protocol was to survey everything before we could even open the thing, and the pair of us watched the progress closely through the narrow window of an omni-tool.

Once the image cleared, I looked away. It was the very thing we were looking for, but I did not feel relief.

“It’s a body,” I said, voice stuck in my throat. A scan of a small turian skeleton showed up through the metal and plastic of the crate in blotchy orange pixels, lying on its side.

Galnius looked at me, confused. I could see his features slide into shock, a slow motion of horror at what we had found.

I grabbed his elbow before he reacted further. Not every cop could cope with the crime scenes of children, but we were the only ones here. I assumed a desk sergeant would have no experience with any form of CSI like this, and moved him gently away from the decon-tent, closing the image from his view.

His eyes were on the box still, hand to his mouth. He looked at them, flinching at what he had done out of instinct. Galnius had carried the box over with me to the tent, and our hands were still damp from the lake water. “Oh.  _Oh._ ”

“Go check the perimeter,” I said, not unkindly. “It’ll only take me a moment to call for backup.”

“Right- I should- right, yes,” he said, taking a deep breath, standing by the scrolling holo of the boundary tape, back to the scene.

We had found the body of a child. The bioscanners were sophisticated enough to find it through layers of plastic and metal, but this was only the beginning. I would have to wait until CSI arrived to know who it was, if they had a family who missed them.

That was my job. I refused to disconnect myself from it and stayed in the here and now. I owed the victim that.


	13. Death Notice Duty

LAKE VICTORY, DAY 2  
_18:56 pm_

All cops have bad scenes. I don’t care how veteran they are, there is always a case that gets under your scales and stays in your memories, an image as vividly eidetic as a drell’s. Judging by the hollow stare of Sergeant Galnius, this was his. He kept on looking back to the decon tent where the victim lay curled on its side, a child hidden from view in layers of plastic and metal.

Dissociation from trauma was normal for C-Sec officers, no matter the species. My father had once stopped me from what he called a disconnection of my own, ironic considering it pushed me towards my career in crime scenes. He took the gun from my hands and held me back as I tried to follow his footsteps, and only his  _siha_ ’s name kept me from jail.

I thought he was dead- I mourned him twice that year. I don’t think he would be happy knowing I still switched off parts of myself when working, but sometimes you had to or-

_-felt like I was watching a vid,’ Bats said, reaching for his coffee. ‘Y’know? I knew it was me doin’ it, but it didn’t feel like my hand picking out the body parts. Like I was just picking up trash or-_

I shook my head at the recollection, though the image of T’Lori’s pinched face still lingered. It was the memory of a hacked skycar incident, and the resulting explosion had killed three people. They were tangled together in parts CSI had to separate into body bags; Galnius was spared from seeing the victim, at least.

“Doing okay?” I asked, standing beside him by the holotape.

He cleared his throat and stood up straight, hands behind his back; it was not only drell who could disconnect themselves. “Fine, sir. All we can do is wait,” Galnius replied, slipping his professionalism back into place. Becoming a VI, T’Lori called it. Getting the job done, shutting down. Putting on a psychic envirosuit and separating yourself from the here and now.

The callout didn’t take long. The first to arrive was Officer Sully, face tight with concern. She flicked her eyes once at the decon tent then stood by us, gloves already on. I could see she wanted to ask how Galnius was holding up but stopped herself; Sully was a professional too. “No CSI yet,” I said, watching her frown at the tent again.  

“DI Krios?” came through the comms. Judging by the suddenly straight backs of the officers beside me, it was Captain AD. “Did I hear the commlines right; you found something?”

A skycar flew overhead, and I recognised it as Adaraka’s and watched him park the regulated 50 metres from the scene. “Yes. 503, Possible 501. CSI isn’t here yet to confirm.” I would elaborate no further; there was a reason we used codes over the comms. Nothing was hack proof.

“Understood,” she said, after a pause. “I’ll be on the scene shortly.”

Adaraka took one look at the tent framed by the horizon of the lake, leaning against the roof of his car. I gestured him to come closer; he was now the second highest ranked officer on site. “You sure?” was the first thing he said, barely looking at the scene. “At what you found, I mean.”

“It’s a dead body,” I replied. No one was around, but I still said it softly. “The bioscanners showed one.”

“Shit,” I heard him say, just as quiet. It was the outcome no one wanted.

We all stood in silence by the holotape, waiting to move on. I had never been to such a quiet crime scene; on the Citadel there was always noise somewhere, a commline barking out through an omni-tool, sirens, shouting. Here by the lake, the site was as solemn as a temple, the sounds of the lapping waters the loudest thing.

It took CSI Vulis ten minutes to arrive, assistant at her heels. I followed her to the tent, tagging Adaraka to come too. “Poor thing,” she said, eyes on the crate.

“Not opened.” I mentioned it before she asked; I was anxious she could give me an ID, and fast. “I assumed anaerobic conditions were present.” If Galnius or I had pried it open, the body inside would literally change before our eyes, wilting and bending under the exposure of the air.

“Where did you find them?”

I pulled at my gloves, annoyed at the plastic sticking to my fingers. “About 600 metres under the lake. Lucky we spotted it, I thought it was trash. How quickly can you get an ID?”

Time was of the essence. I assumed the victim had a family, and I had to tell them before someone else did. “When it’s done,” she said, refusing to look at me. “I can tell you it’s a boy of around seven, though. I’ll know more when he’s moved to my lab.”

“But can you ID him here?”  Vulis had found more than I had from the scanners; out of the missing children I had been tasked to find, Juvus Caeplin was the only boy.

I was given a cold look over a blinking visor. “No. Not without opening the crate, and I’m not doing that here,  _detective._ ”

There was procedure, but I also had three families of the missing children to answer to. “It’s the first thing that needs doing,” I said.

“I’m aware. I also work faster without being crowded.” Vulis looked at her omni-tool, checking something. “As soon as we move the crate from the scene back to my lab, you’ll have it. We have biomarkers for all the missing children.”

“We’re all clocking in extra tonight,” I said, uploading my first response statement. It was not my finest work, but there was a lot to do. “You’re not alone there.”

Vulis stood up from her lean; I could see the lights of her visor as she looked over her shoulder at me. “This all you found? No sign of anything else, like a weapon?”

Adaraka cleared his throat behind us. “Should there be?” he asked.

“Yes.” She gestured for me to look at the screen of her omni-tool. In the flickering glow of orange pixels, I could see a turian child missing half their head. A gunshot wound, at a close angle.

“I need that ID,” I said. Third time I told her, but I had to say something.

“Ah, DI Krios?” I heard Sergeant Galnius call, stopping Vulis from replying. I left her to her work inside the tent, only to see Menetina Abicolus and her now functioning camera on the edge of the scene. “Seems we got company.” He flashed me a nervous smile.

“Of course,” I said. “Of course we do.”

Officer Sully was not amused. Her jaw tightened with anger, and I wondered what happened for her to dislike the press -or, more accurately, Abi- to react in such a way. “I’ll handle her,” she said.

At that I scowled, approaching her anyway. “Ms. Abicolus,” I said. “Stay back, please.”

“If it isn’t my favourite drell,” she replied, smiling.  Abi took one look at the tent and flicked open her omni-tool, close enough to the holotape for the pixels to flicker in orange around her as Sully pushed her back. “I’m breaking no laws,” she said, typing away at something.

“Not yet,” said Sully. “How did you get here so fast?”

It was a good question, and I narrowed my eyes at Abi. “You wouldn’t happen to have a scanner, would you? A law-abiding citizen such as yourself wouldn’t be listening to police commlines, would they?”

My questions were ignored with another smile. “What did you find?” she asked. “What’s in that tent, Krios?” Galnius looked at his feet at the mention, and Abi stared at him, head tilted to one side.

I noticed her eyes linger on Adaraka, and for once I couldn’t read her expression. “Wait for the statement,” he said. “Oh, and ‘no comment.’”

If we were on the Citadel, Abi could record at the boundary line of the crime scene. But we were under Hierarchy laws, and they had strict rules about media control- especially around bodies. “If I find you have anything recorded or published, neither of us are going to have a good time,” I told her. “Do you understand me?”

Abi clicked off her onmi-tool. “Oh I know my place,” she said. “Do you have anything else to add to what you found, and why it seems the entire station is here?” Another skycar flew over the lake, flashing blue lights.

I sighed, watching Captain AD park her skycar next to Adaraka’s cruiser. If Abi had listened in on the commline and understood the code, then she knew we had a possible murder victim at the scene. If she saw us move the crate into Vulis’s CSI carrier, then she would guess it was a child; the thing was only a metre or so in length.

Press and media were a necessary evil, but only on my terms. “No comment,” I said. “Please wait until we have something.”

Adaraka snorted behind me, and Abi shifted at the noise, looking away. “I’m staying on the scene. It’s my rights.”

“And we’re moving back the boundary,” I told her. “Under law, you remain outside. Go and move your skycar 50 metres back, please. It’s obstructing the emergency vehicles.” Technically it was a lie, but I did not want her to see the victim’s final resting place.

Together with a shield of officers and a moved boundary line, we managed to smuggle the crate out of the tent. I helped carry the victim with Vulis into her vehicle, but she cut me off as soon as I tried to speak to her. “As soon as I know who he is, you know. Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll find out.”

Captain AD touched my shoulder before I could rally the remaining officers into an impromptu meeting. “A moment, DI Krios.” We both watched the CSI team take off into the sky until there were only thruster fumes left of their vehicle. “This is your investigation.”

There was a  _but_ there somewhere. “Yes.” I gestured to the decon chamber, and she nodded. I let the sprays do their job, hands in front of my face.

Captain AD narrowed her eyes at me. Everyone on the scene was solemn, but for the captain the burden of what we found seemed to weigh the heaviest. “This is my jurisdiction. My responsibility.”

“I still abide by local laws,” I replied. I was no Spectre, after all.

“As soon as you get an ID of the victim, tell me. I will be with you for the death notification. I know the families here.” She had her hands behind her back, and the gentle swell of her stomach pushed out.

No way in hell would I expose a pregnant woman to unpredictable, grieving relatives. There was a reason two officers broke bad news; I’d pick another over her, even if she ordered it. “With respect, ma’am-”

“-Captain Acilitus-Dixon or AD, never ma’am. And why do I get the feeling you’re going to tell me something that isn’t with respect in the first place?”

Captains were tricky to navigate. As DI this was my case, but Captain AD still had to sign off any agreements I made, if only for search warrants. “Apologies.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say ‘in your condition,’ but I tried a different tactic. “Detective Adaraka and Officer Sully will be with me since both have gained the trust of the families.”

It was a slight bending of the truth, but I hoped it was enough to sway her from bringing herself along. Captain AD sighed and stretched out her back; she clearly was not having a comfortable pregnancy. “I suppose,” she said. “It’s the most practical. But I insist on-” she stopped herself with a grimace, then looked down at her stomach. “Stop it,” she told it sternly.

Oh Gods, she wasn’t giving birth now, was she? I looked around for help and caught the eye of an amused Sully. “Ah. Do you need assistance?” I said, trying not to warble my distress.

I received a look for my troubles. “No. It’s only reflux, little bastard keeps pushing my stomach into my gizzard. Nothing a hot kava won’t fix.”

“Right.” I coughed into my fist before I spoke again. “You are carrying a child of your own.” I played the pregnancy card in the end, annoyed I had to. “Grief makes people react in strange ways.”

“Of course. The baby.” I looked away, unsure what else to say. “You’re worse than my husband. I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

I did not know how to react. I’m a drell, there’s still a tiny part of me that snaps to attention whenever a woman of authority sassed me; what can I say, it’s a Krios trait. “I merely wanted to point out that-”

I was silenced by a wave. “You’ve made your point.” AD was annoyed but finally conceded to my judgement, even though it pained her. ”Keep me posted with the case. I assume you’re heading back to the station? I need to prep a statement for the press release, anyhow.”

I nodded. “I need to brief the team again.” Things change when a body is found, especially a child’s.

We kept the boundaries at the crime scene and left no guard, save for my abandoned Kodiak; I had a feeling it wouldn’t fit in the station’s garage and hitched a ride with Sully.

The station was quiet when we got there, and Terix rose from his desk when we all piled in. “I want search and rescue efforts doubled of the lake,” I said, once everyone was somewhat gathered in one room. “Galnius?”

“Sir?” He was still somewhat quiet and fiddled his gloves. Galnius even ignored the snack table Terix had laid out, an act of kindness that surprised me from the surly turian.

“You going to be up for leading the search teams? At least until Captain AD has secured release for special vehicles units.” Now that we found a body, the Hierarchy might even listen.

Galnius straightened up and saluted; it was so abrupt that I startled, double blinking at the gesture. We don’t really salute much in C-Sec unless we caught a severe case of sarcasm. “Yes sir,” he said. “I can do that.”

“Good. Get something to eat first, yes? The rest of you, keep to your original tasks until we get the ID from CSI; we all got leads to chase up. This is now a double murder investigation. We got a lot of eyes on us, so let’s do this right.”

They all looked at me as I helped myself to tea, apparently not quite grasping the meeting had finished. “Get on with it, then,” I said, pulling out my omni-tool to do my own work.

That was enough to startle them into action, and most of them ambled to their own desks.  A lot policing, -be it on the Citadel or small colonies- was spent staring at databanks on a monitor, and I accessed Epiteia’s Immigration intranet to try and find my Blackwatch agent.

He wasn’t there; obviously that was too easy. “You know who this is?” I said, isolating yesterday’s image for Galnius to see. I assumed the station gossip would at least know someone who  _might_  know someone.

Galnius looked clueless, to my annoyance. “Should I?”

Sully and Terix squinted at the holo, intrigued. “He looks like a soldier,” she said. “Know what I mean?”

She had a point- I thought he was Blackwatch, after all. Terix had other ideas, however. “We all look like soldiers to you,” he said, patting her on the head on the way back to his terminal.

It was enough to make her scowl. I knew enough about human women not to touch their damn hair, unless-

- _my hands coiled into her hair and pulled, and she gasp-_

Not now, Oriana.

I chased the memory away with a very large draught of my tea, thankfully cool enough to drink. “Don’t be a dick,” said Sully. Apparently, they were still arguing over the image. “I mean, he looks the type? That’s what I mean.”

You’d think we were cruel to ditch our solemnity so soon, but we were people too. Humour was an odd shield to use in our line of work, but an effective one. “I find they often do. But he’s not _your_ type is he?” I said, giving Sully a look.  

“Nah. She likes them without a fringe.” Terix grinned at her. “Can’t say I blame her.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that Sully,” said Galnius. “Via’s a lovely girl, you’re a smashin’ couple.”

“Thanks, Galnius,” she said, smiling at him. He had escaped her ire, even if we hadn’t. “I mean, the man in the image looks like _a_ type. A soldier type.” Sully gestured to the holo again.

“Astute policing,” I replied, sipping my tea. “Anything else?”

Terix huffed in amusement. “This’ll be good. Let’s see what a human thinks a turian soldier should look like, especially an Alliance fly brat.”

I knew where the conversation was going and went back to work. I found that the turians that settled with humans often had a common ground of shooting things under order, and it was dull to listen to. I heard enough at C-Sec to grasp that the various Army, Navy, and Space Fleets of most species all annoyed the other.

“He’s the type used to shifting around a heavy rifle and eating heat sinks. That type. If he was human, I’d say he was an _oorah_.” Sully ignored him now, typing away at her omni-tool. “What do you need him for, DI Krios? Is he part of the investigation?”

It felt like the entire room looked at me; I debated passing it off as nothing, but my gut was telling me to trust the three of them. “He was at the scene of the crime yesterday, the shooting. I pulled the image from the vid feeds Galnius found,” I said. “Time to check C-Sec’s face recognition database, if I can connect from here.”

Sully raised her eyebrows almost into her hairline. “You think he shot at you?”

My Blackwatch agent was nowhere near the roof, but that he was in Epiteia made him very much a person of interest- this case was getting too coincidental for my liking. “Not likely, but he was there. Just following it through.”

Their interest in the holo was enough for Adaraka to look into it. “No idea,” he said. “Why’s he got your attention, anyway?”

“The shooting.” I hated repeating myself.

“Right, right.” Adaraka crossed his arms. “What about the name I dug up?” he asked. “The unidentified ship l I found near the scene.”

I would’ve answered, were it not for the looming presence of Captain AD staring us down from the doorway. “Is there a problem?” I said, standing in an instant.

She crooked a finger at me. “A word.”

Adaraka looked away politely, as baffled by her company as I was. No one liked a captain patrolling the incident rooms; funnily enough, it put the officers on edge. “There’s a request for a holovid interview from an Investigator Vakarian. It went through my channels first,” she said, alone in the quiet of an empty corridor. “Apparently I have to give you permission to take it.”

AD was not pleased by the interruption, but neither was I. “I am under no obligation to take the interview. My work here comes first.”

She waved away my words like they were flies. “I was led to believe your  _local_ issue would not affect your work here. That Internal Affairs was finished with you.”

I stood up from my lean against the wall. “You know as much as I do. I can assure you, this case has my full attention.”

“It should.” There was a pause I wasn’t sure I had to fill and cleared my throat. “We’re still waiting on the results from Vulis, I suppose,” she said. “There should be time for whatever it is they want from you- I’ll accede the request for now.”

Of all the times to deal with this, now was not the time. The case of Samuel Austin had followed me to Epiteia, even though I was light years away from the Citadel. The press still called him the Ward Killer, a dramatic enough title to stick around. No one could recall the victim’s names a month after their deaths, but at least I would always remember them-

_-stupid lizard, you think your C-Sec works here? You’re just a puppet, you know nothing. Those people deserved their crimes, they were-_

Austin was a human who killed outside his species under the justification he was doing good- no amount of reasoning could argue away the premeditation the bastard went through in his efforts to murder. If he was alive, he would be in prison for a long time. I heard his last words, watching his head explode in a red that misted my uniform.

My hardsuit and jacket were taken as evidence for forensics soon after. I had no clue who executed him from long range, but Internal Affairs assumed I did. His death was the reason I was in Epiteia. Bailey had sent me-

_-look, kid, the sooner it’s over, the sooner you can come back. It’ll take you a week, tops. The report should be finished by then, and we’ll know for sure what the I.A. thinks. CSI gave me the ballistics report, turns out the gun was a Viper, older model, they think-_

According to C-Sec’s Internal Affairs, Investigator Vakarian was now in charge of handling my case. By rights I shouldn’t be under investigation to begin with; I knew nothing. I fucked up by going alone without backup, but I had no idea Austin would be there- nor did I murder the bastard.

Captain AD gave me an empty room used for the nicer internal meetings to take the call; at least it wasn’t an interview room for suspects. The flickering holo took a while to get into shape, but it was him alright.  “DI Krios,” he said, keeping his tone bland. “Thank you for answering my request. I assume this is a good time to call you?”

Investigator Vakarian may have been tempted back to work in the IA department, but it was only on a part-time basis; my case was apparently tempting enough for him to cast his beady eyes over. “Unfortunately no,” I replied, putting on my politest smile.

“I’m told that a lot.”

Internal Affairs was a cushy job for retired captains, even if no one in C-Sec liked the rat squad. I knew the gossip; despite a more famous son, Castis Vakarian was still considered an unbending legend of the Bachjret beat, retiring only to nurse his dying wife.

I knew his son more than him, of course. I met him all of three times, but-

_-I’m not my dad,’ he slurred, a dextro Heatsink in his hands. The alcohol splashed on the counter. ‘Whoopsh sorry, Shepard-_

Neither of us would name the ghosts in the room- not yet, anyway. “I’m on a time sensitive case,” I replied. “And still working. You understand that, don’t you?” I said it politely enough, but the point remained: fuck off, I have a job to do.

He tilted his head to one side, watching very clearly for my reaction. “And do you understand why I called?”

I checked my omni tool for the time. “Of course, it’s your job to. But my statement has not changed.”

The sooner this was over with, the sooner I could end this. “The interview will take thirty minutes,” he said. “At most.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to refuse,” forcing a smile on my face. “I’m waiting on CSI to be done with a bioscan. Once I have the results, I’m gone. The victim’s families need to know, and I’m lead here.”

A promise, not a threat. Vakarian shifted, hands behind his back. “Understandable. But this is only an informal interview if you can indulge me. You may leave as soon as you get the call.”

I was a cop myself, did he think he could lull me off guard with an ‘informal interview?’ Nothing was ever informal with Internal Affairs. “I can give you five minutes. That’s all the captain will allow here.”

He nodded his answer, pleased. I could see him pull up a holoscreen with an elegant swipe of his finger. “Name and place of birth for the record, and then we can start.”

So much for clawing back my power. “Kolyat Krios. Domed Illumines, Kahje.”

Vakarian looked my way briefly, refusing to show a reaction. “Officer number.”

Dutifully I rattled it off, resisting the urge to point out the stencilled number on my hardsuit, which I knew he could see. The questions were there to establish a rhythm, to lull even trained detectives into opening up. “Department and location of your precinct, please.”

I answered him again, but the inane questions continued: where I lived; my last job; What my flight record was; who my colleagues were. As soon as he asked for the registration number of my Kodiak, I broke. “You’re wasting time on this?” I asked, reaching for my  _se’aus_  tin.

The thing was damn near empty; if Oriana was around, I’d receive a lecture for indulging my tobacco habit too hard. “Are you going to answer?” Vakarian shifted the weight of his feet, watching me still.

“I’ll decline,” I said. “I found the body of a young boy shoved in a crate and thrown into the water two hours ago. I would very much like to get back to my investigation, and not deal with-”

I shoved my fists under the table and stilled myself before I said something I’d regret. Even in the flickering holo, Vakarian was unrelenting in his stare. “Do you need a moment? I can give you two standard minutes before we resume the interview again.”

“No. Thank you.” Two minutes? And here’s me thinking I could walk away at any time. “I’m sure our agreed upon five minutes are coming to a close. What’s your last question?”

My response was ignored. “I’ve been asking about you around your precinct, DI Krios.” I kept my features neutral, but inside I was furious.  _I had done nothing wrong._  “You are well thought of by most who work with you. Your captain thinks you’re a good detective.”

I blinked at that- aside from Bailey, who was there that liked me at work? Maybe Haron, possibly Bats if he was feeling generous. “Good to know,” I said. My voice was raspier than usual, and I sucked my  _se’aus_. Most cops closed ranks around inquiry reports, for better or worse.

Vakarian picked up a pad to read something. “I can find no activity of bribes, save the occasional hand out to a Duct Rat. Mind telling me what for?”

Bribes were standard in C-Sec, even if they were being phased out. “Information, mostly-”

_-of course I used the drala'fa,’ Father said. I pushed aside my tea, trying not to roll my eyes. ‘They're everywhere, see everything. Yet they are never-_

Vakarian closed his datapad with a flick of a talon, and finally he looked at me. “The thing about you Krios is that I can’t work out why you joined C-Sec.”

It was not something I hadn’t heard before; my job often surprised people when I was out of uniform. “You know the answer to that changes daily for most of us,” I said. “Depends on the day I’ve had.”

He ignored my deflection. “I’ll state my words plainer. What made you want to join? Because-

_-I must ask, why do you want to do all this?’ Father was frowning still. ‘That you want to do good is admirable, but I cannot understand why it must be through an organisation that fails to-_

He never did like C-Sec, my career assassin of a father. The memory had passed, leaving only Investigator Vakarian’s holo, politely waiting for me to answer. “DI Krios? Are you well?”

“My advice is to be honest.” That’s what Bailey said I should do in his email; I checked my still silent omni-tool and gave in.

“I’m fine.” I could still smell the lake water on my hands as I cupped my chin, despite my time in the decon chamber. “I can give you the same answer that silenced my father. You know what he was?”

What, not who. There was an important distinction I was trying to make. Investigator Vakarian tilted his head, small eyes narrowing at my question. I had named our infamous connection, even though we were still on opposite sides of the table.

“Is there some relevance to him and the death of Samuel Austin, DI Krios?”

“I don’t think his cremated body is coming back from the ocean. So no.”

His mandibles twitched barely a millimetre at the snark. “To answer your question, of course I know of his fame,” he said. “And what he did before the events of the war.” Of course he would. I wondered if he had inside information, if his son told him anything of his time on the SR-2.

“When I first said I was interested in becoming an officer, my father emailed me a very earnest letter about the flaws of C-Sec’s system, at how in one precinct alone he could spot nine weak spots. He couldn’t understand why I would devote my time to an organisation he saw as powerless. ‘I understand your need for justice,’ he said. ‘But not the method.’”

Vakarian refused to move, letting me speak still. I pushed away the memories so I could speak them, intent now on my story. “Every time we met, the subject would come up. Now I told him the usual shit seventeen-year-olds say when they wanted to be cops. That I wanted to be just, to do good, to protect and serve.”

Quite the dramatic U-turn considering my  previous career choice, but it was stating the obvious to a retired captain; C-Sec was still an honour, especially to turians. I had offended many of his kind by my age and lack of experience when I joined. Still, my minority status as a drell and Bailey’s backing may have helped me into law enforcement, but I passed the detective exams on my own damn merit.

“An officer of the law should want these things,” Vakarian replied. “It is your job to.”

I tapped the symbol painted on my hardsuit. “Of course it is. But the real reason, the one that made me want to join C-Sec? The one that still gets me out of bed each morning, despite the usual abuse and awful shifts?”

“Every system has a downside.” I could see a hint of humour in his eyes before he smoothed his features over; it was the same old complaints he had heard a million times before. The war hadn’t changed C-Sec that much, despite what the media thought.

“Same when you worked the beat too, I assume? Some things remain the same.”

Vakarian allowed himself a smile.  Either it was a calculated effort at putting me at ease, or I had won him over. “Perhaps,” he replied, nodding once. “Are the kava machines still awful?”

“Either awful or broken; comes in two modes.”

Investigator Vakarian clasped his hands together in front of him, eyes back to his screen. “And the answer to the question? Why you wanted to join C-Sec.”

The memory swallowed me before I could stop it. I could hear the clink of glasses at the bar I had sat in with my father, the taste of fruit liquor on my tongue. “Because the work is interesting. That’s the selfish answer,” I said, the same I had given then. My hand mimicked the folding and refolding of a napkin under the table, what I was doing at the time I had answered him.

I looked up as the recollection disappeared. Vakarian had narrowed his eyes, nonplussed; on the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t exactly a life-shattering reveal, but to me it was. “Not many officers would agree,” he said. “Doesn’t matter if it’s interesting.”

Didn’t take a genius to work out where that came from. I had only met Garrus Vakarian three times in my life, but I knew precisely what he felt about the _old_ system thanks to the Heatsinks he downed during Shepard’s party. “To them, perhaps. But for me, every day is still different- it’s as simple as that. Since I signed up each case has been unique. It brings something new; it’s important to me that it does.”

“You don’t think think the red tape is restrictive.” A statement, not a question.

“It’s part of the puzzle,” I replied. I looked away to find the right words. “Perhaps I’ve been lucky on my cases so far, but whenever I feel frustrated by the system I-” I stopped, sheepish. What I was going to say was I just go home, to my girlfriend and my cat. But it made me sound like a sociopath, frankly.

He was no fool. “You just what, DI Krios? I lost you there.”

Honesty, that’s what Bailey had said. “I go home,” I replied, exhaling another heavy breath. “I take off my armour at the end of my shift, and I go home. I do have a life outside the precinct, despite what you’ve been told. And on days like this, maybe the memories will linger, maybe sleep would be harder to find, but I do my job, and when the shift ends _I go home._ ”

The words felt mealy in my mouth. If Oriana had heard me, if she knew what I had said, I knew she would disagree. The inquiry, interviews like this- it had seeped into my life in ways I could not scrub clean. It’s not that I slammed doors or yelled at her; I shut down to become an untouchable thing, my own island.

I had replayed my memories to work out what exactly had happened for my career and life to go to shit in such a spectacular fashion, becoming asocial to the one person I couldn’t afford to be. It may have cost our relationship; because I knew I had fucked up, and-

_-shutting down again,’ she said, tugging my arms. ‘Look at me, please.’ The shattered keepsake lay broken in the sink. On the scale of things, ruining my father’s teacup was inconsequential. A girl barely into the Maiden stage died in my arms an hour ago, her purple blood still on-_

Perhaps it was a lie, my supposed disconnection from work and home. Because when I went back to my lonely prefab later, nothing would make the image of a six-year-old boy folded into a crate disappear, no matter how many 5ks I did.

Vakarian flicked up his holoscreens again and stared at his reports. “I wonder if there’s even a point to get you to recount the incident of the shooting again,” he said. “All your interviews read remarkably similar, word for word. Eidetic memory seems a gift.”

“Not as much as aliens think.”

I could recall my original statement again if he asked, and it would be exactly the same; I would give him no less. “DI Krios?” he said. “If there’s time, perhaps you can-”

My arm vibrated. Thank all the Gods, CSI Vulis had called. “I have to go. We can reschedule over email- Krios out.”

I closed the holo before he could respond, pulling up the audio of Vulis. “His name is Juvus Caeplin,” she said, getting right to the point. Vulis had just named one of the missing children; at least he had someone who loved him. “His body is in no state for viewing. Please persuade his next of kin from it, it’ll only distress them.”

Considering the victim was missing most of his head, Vulis had a point. “Understood.”

It took me five minutes to gather Adaraka and give everyone their orders. Officers Sully and Terix would notify the parents of the other families that one of the missing had been found; it was their right to know. “Not easy,” said Sully, looking at her hands.

Terix patted her on the shoulder, though his eyes were on me. “Their children are missing, but we found their friend dead. No. not easy.”

I ignored his comment. “Sully, look at me.” She did, putting on a nervous smile. ”Tell them in plain language the truth, and offer them as much help as we can afford to give. I made you family liaison officer for a reason,” I said. “Tell them Juvus Caeplin was murdered. Watch them very closely when you do.” I left her desk before she could respond.

Before Adaraka and I faced our own death notification duties, Captain AD gestured me again to talk to her. “Meet you by your cruiser,” I told Adaraka, following to her to the quiet of an empty interview room.

She sat down on the table before she spoke, a hand on her stomach. “Your personal matter dealt with?”

“Of course,” I said. Those words would probably come back to haunt me; I had a feeling Castis Vakarian was not done with me yet.

AD nodded, pleased. “Good. I’ve managed to secure a nearby legion to stop chasing pirates and help with our search of the lake. A water team should arrive tomorrow, but at least we have more manpower for now.”

“Excellent. And the Blackwatch clearance?”

AD may have rattled a few rungs of the Hierarchy into giving us what we needed, but apparently data from Turian Special Ops were still off limits. “I’ve sent my request,” she told me. “Don’t hold your breath. I have a feeling it’ll bounce back to my desk soon.”

“But the evidence-”

She waved me away. “I’ve read your reports. I agree, something seems off, but a mystery call from Kaeruns Abtion is not enough to go on.” I did not tell her about the Blackwatch agent I saw yesterday: ‘he looks like Blackwatch’ is not circumstantial evidence, no matter how nicely I worded it.

“But it should be,” I said, trying to persuade her to try again. “Presence of bleach at two scenes and Abtion being at the last known sighting of the children, it’s all-”

“I know,” she said, interrupting me gently. “I’ll try, but you have to find me something more. You told me this morning you thought the shooting was unrelated. Is it still?”

The million credit question. “There is no hard evidence,” I said, though my teeth. “Other than-” it was on the tip on my tongue to tell her about the Blackwatch agent I saw. “Other than my arrival,” I finished, rubbing my nose. “I have to go, Captain.”

“Of course. I have a press release to word. Let the Caeplins know their boy is-” she breathed in, a hand on her stomach still. “Murdered, Vulis says. Gunshot wound to the head. We have child killers here-”

_-my eye caught a painting framed in the kitchen behind him, a childish drawing scribbled on real paper; Mom, Dad, and Juvus was written underneath in an adult’s hand. Teus Caeplin noticed my gaze and smiled-_

I had to tell a family we found the remains of their six-year-old son, and that someone had murdered him.


	14. Tonight's Main Headline

EPITEIA POLICE STATION, DAY 2  
_20:15 pm_

Adaraka was waiting for me in his skycar, hands on his lap. As the cruiser took off, I switched my omni-tool and VITA into silence mode. “Have you done many death notifications?” I asked him.

“A few.” Adaraka was less talkative, for obvious reasons. I figured the Caeplins would be more comfortable with seeing their own kind, even if he let me do all the talking. “You leading?”

I nodded and neatened my jacket in the glare of the window, trying not to look as bedraggled as I felt. We were approaching the end of our 12-hour shift, and both of us knew we would be working overtime. “What do you think of the family? I’ve only met Teus, not his wife.”

“Young for parents,” he said. “Clean records. Keep to themselves.” It was roughly the same as Sully told me this morning, but it seemed Adaraka had more to say. “I found them a bit arrogant, like the police were a bother to them.”

It didn’t matter what the Caeplins thought of us, I still had to tell them what happened to their son. There was no easy way to tell parents their child was dead, but I was a detective- with homicides, most victims knew their murderer. “Watch them, watch for a reaction. Anything that seems odd or out of place, you tell me.”

“I can do that.” Adaraka shifted in his seat, discomfited by the thought. “Laeta Caeplin has been confirmed as leaving work, they’re both at home now, at least.”

The journey was silent after that, and Adaraka’s cleared throat was the only noise I had heard from him when we got out his cruiser. This time it was Laeta who answered the door, sleeves rolled up to her elbow.

She was less suspicious than her husband, but she still knew what two cops on her doorstop looked like. “What is it?” As we introduced ourselves with our omni-IDs in view, her browplates pinched in confusion. “What’s happened?”

This time I could not tell her any words of comfort. “It would be better if we came in first. May we have half an hour of your time?”

“Not again,” said Teus, rising from his chair. He was sitting in exactly the same place as he had been this morning, this time dressed in his work clothes. Laeta reached for his hand.

“May I sit?” A vague wave was given to their living room. As they gripped each other in reassurance, Adaraka got himself a chair from the kitchen. Once we were all settled, I could start. “A body of a young boy was found in the lake this afternoon.”

They knew then, but they didn’t let themselves believe it. “What happened?”

Adaraka looked away, eyes on the floor. I was lead, this was my burden. “We believe it is Juvus. I am so sorry for your loss.”

I had to say the words twice before it sunk in for them. Teus keened, hands over his mouth as he finally understood. He said the word  _no_ over and over, a litany of grief.  

Two minutes passed by and I let it. Laeta was still confused, even though I knew she had heard me. “But it can’t be him,” she said eventually. “What was he doing there? Juvus can’t swim. I told him he should keep away from the water.”

When I first started out as an officer, I assumed it would be easier to soften the blow of death notifications with gentle words and small talk, that I should smother the truth bit by bit. It is a crueler fate; grief always requires words in neat, plain lines.

“I can tell you all we know about what happened to your son,” I said, eyes on them. “If it would help you.” They would ask, I would have to answer; no half-truth would soothe their anguish, no matter what I said. “Some of what I say may upset or disturb you; please tell me to stop at any time, or if you need something repeated.”

Laeta shook her head, her hands tightly bound with her husband's. “I don’t understand. Why the lake? Did he drown?”

Knowing the words were light years away from saying them. “Juvus died of a gunshot wound to the head. We found his body in a crate.”

I had to repeat my words again; Laeta froze, still refusing to hear them. “Are you sure it’s Juvus?”

“It is. The bioscanners have confirmed it. I promise you I will find the person who did this.”

“Why did someone shoot him?” Teus broke again, keening in sharp breaths. He curved around his unmoving wife, hands around his mouth. “Why was he in the lake?”

Laeta was a carved statue of grief. Vaguely she held her husband, still unsure by what she heard. “He’s alone. He doesn’t like being alone. I have to see him.”

I was warned by CSI Vulis that Juvus Caeplin was in no state for a viewing, especially by those who had loved him the most.  “I think perhaps that it is for the best that you do not. You would not recognise Juvus; his wounds were extensive.”

“But I’m his mother. I would know him.” Laeta frowned, angry I had said such a thing. Someone had shot their child at point black range, and I had to tell them I didn’t know why, not yet. “I need to see my boy.”

No matter the species, all had this compulsion. It was an odd instinct, the need to see the dead. I understood where it came from; my eyes were on the prayerbook when my father exhaled his last breath, but seeing his body after helped me.

_-I held his cold hand when Shepard left us alone. I was still unsure why I did it, what was I supposed to-_

“I cannot begin to imagine what you’re going through,” I said-

_-the kitchen was stained with her blood, dried now. Why was Mami’s blood black? Why was her body in a bag, why-_

“-but understand I am going to do everything I can to find the person who did this to Juvus.” I meant that, and hoped they could see that I did; I knew the entire station felt the same too. “I will turn this colony upside down if I have to.”

Laeta understood now what had happened; I could see the mourning sink into her features, subvocals underlined in a keen. “Why would anyone- but he’s a boy- _why_?”

For once Adaraka spoke, lifting his eyes from the floor to do so. “Is there anyone we can call for you? Family, maybe. The Historian?”

Teus shook his head, his wife’s grief pulling him from his own. “It’s only us. My brother, maybe, but he’s on Palaven. Have the other children been found?” he asked me.

“We found Juvus by himself. The search is still ongoing for the others.”

It was the comment that finally broke Laeta. She collapsed against her husband’s cowl once she finally realised what it was I was saying, limp with grief. “He doesn’t like being alone,” she said. “Why was he alone?”

I had given them half an hour, and we only had ten minutes of it left. “The press and media will know soon, you may be contacted by someone. I suggest you give them no comment.”

“Can I see him?” Laeta asked again. “Please.”

“I’m afraid not,” I said. They both looked at me, asking the same questions over and over. _Why was he shot? Why was in the lake? Is he alone? Why would anyone hurt him?_ In my gut I thought neither pulled the trigger; I would not interrogate them now on what they knew, but leave it to the morning.

“Is there really no one we can call for you?” said Adaraka. He had a point; you do not leave grieving relatives on their own, but at least they had each other. I would send Sully first thing to their home in the morning. “A friend from work, perhaps?”

Teus rocked Laeta in his arms, clearing his throat to speak. “I can call my brother. And work needs to know I’m not coming in.”

“I think we have gone as far as we can for the moment. Do you remember Officer Sully? Your family liaison officer,” I said to Teus. “We met this morning. Contact her or myself with anything, anything at all. You have our direct lines.”

Adaraka and I said nothing when we got to his cruiser. I could see the death notification had affected him deeply, even though he had not said much of anything. “After you take me back, you can coordinate with Galnius over the search parties,” I said. “But go home and eat something hot first, shower if you need to- then get back into it. Want you on overtime tonight, if you can manage it.”

I’d say the same thing to them all, though Adaraka startled at the mention. “There’s no need,” he said.

“Take it.” It was an order, not a suggestion. “I’ll be doing the same after yours is done. We’re people, not VIs.”

The war had left so many families broken; the Caeplins should be surrounded by people to help them, to shield them from the fallout of losing their child. All they had were each other, but most couples of murdered children split from the strain; they needed help.

But I still had to do my job. Assume nothing, believe no one, check everything. Until CSI had finished with their report, there was not much else to do but chase up data and stare at information, and hope my presumption about the Caeplin's was right.

I sent most of the officers home for an hour bar Sully, who had let it slip that Icina Duvitus, one of the missing children’s mothers, was in hospital. “What with all the commotion today I-”

I waved a hand at her. Sully was anxious she had done wrong in not knowing right away, but with the lack of bodies we had for this case, things would slip through the cracks. “It’s okay. Hospitalised how?”  

“Acute stress, so I’ve been told. She’s been starving herself.”

Odd that a woman who obsessively cooked for her neighbours wouldn’t be eating. “Does she know about Juvus Caeplin?”

Sully shook her head. “I was waiting to see how you want to handle it sir,” she said.

“I’ll speak to her in the morning,” I replied. A suffering mother starving herself in grief wasn’t unheard of, but it was extreme. “Get in contact with her husband. Force him to come home. If he refuses, I’ll issue a warrant.”

I wondered what Icina already knew to have reacted so badly; on the Citadel we would’ve assumed it was the media. News escaped out of our control if scenes were badly handled, but I made sure Abi had nothing to go on. Abi-

_-give you one hint, yeah? Watch the local news tonight. Pay attention to what is said.’  I refused to look back and carried on walking, but Abi hadn’t-_

“Can you get the news on this thing?” I said, poking the vidscreen abandoned in the incident room.

“I don’t think Abi will have anything for her show,” said Sully. “No press release yet for Juvus Caeplin. But there’s something on the Kaeruns Abtion case, I think? There was a statement this morning.”

Sully passed me tiny bag of trail mix and the pair of us watched the screen standing up, too tired to sit down. I’m not sure what it was with this squad and feeding people, but I wasn’t going to argue; I emptied the entire packet into my mouth as the awful local news jingle started up.

I was waiting for a murder report; what I got was a puff piece on the system’s Primarch visiting Epiteia. “That’s a hideous suit,” I said between chews, looking at Abi’s vomit inducing outfit. "Is she colour blind?"

_-what would you know about style?’ Oriana huffed, twisting the lacy shirt in her hands. ‘All you wear is black and blue-_

“Yeah Abi’s fashion is, ah, infamous around here. She has like, an entire section on Epiteia’s intranet dedicated to her suits. They are truly awful.”

Abi droned on, a scarily perky newscaster voice that was light years away from what I had heard from her today. “Primarch Trenigius looks to open the Cultural Exchange Centre himself here on Epiteia in a month’s time, and will attend the ceremony in person,” she said, smiling at the camera. Still no mention of murdered children in lakes or old men shot in bathtubs. Curious.

“This Cultural Centre is what we fought for in the war,” said the Primarch. The vid played on, this time recording from an old press office somewhere. “It will be a place of interspecies learning, where we can study from our allies. I am proud both of Epiteia and the Castellus system leading the way for the Hierarchy on this; we are making history for the turian people.”

I paused the screen, heart in my throat as I recognised someone. It wasn’t the Primarch or his words that interested me, but his aides in the shadows. “Well, shit.”

Sully squinted at my handiwork. “Oh,” she said, working it out. Though the colony markings were different, it was the same damn turian I saw, whispering something into the ear of an aide behind the podium. “You sure?”

“Yep.”

I don’t like coincidences. What was Abi getting at with her little hint to watch the news? That Blackwatch agents killed old men? That the Primarch had a special interest in Epitieia and it was related to the case? What did she even  _have_?

“It makes sense your man was here yesterday then,” said Sully. “Captain AD probably knows more than me, but Epiteia is going to be swarming in the Primarch's men soon. Security sweep of the area, that sort of thing. He might not come now, though. What with the, ah, murders.”

“Hmm,” was all I said. Would Abi talk to me if I pushed her on what she knew? I could-

_-I am in shit if they find out I know.’ Abi whispered the words now, still frightened by something. “Like, Blackwatch secret service levels of shit-_

It was past ten, and I was now sixteen hours into my shift. I needed a hot meal, a shower and a change of clothes. “Drop me off at the scene? I got to pick up my carrier.” I would deal with Abi after I had done my duty with the searching; I was still the only one with a Kodiak capable of diving.

According to my law enforcement psychology lessons, any cop who felt the urge to visit the crime scene again was under a compulsion that should be dealt with immediately, since it reduced the act to an obsession. It was a sign that you needed to break off from the case before it consumed you, but I also needed to pick up my abandoned vehicle.

I could see Adaraka sitting on the picnic table, a kava mug in his hands. I was not the only detective on Epiteia with an urge to stare at the waters, but misery always did love company.

“Krios,” he said, barely looking up from the floor. Sully flashed the siren once as she passed over us as a goodbye, heading back to the station.

“Adaraka.” I sat next him on the bench, helping myself to my last crumbs of  _se’aus_  from my tin. “Thought I told you to take a break.” I checked the time on my omni-tool; barely an hour after I sent him home.

He took a sip before he spoke again, shrugging. “I got enough. Bad day, huh?”

Understatement there, really. Adaraka sighed, fiddling with the plastic seal of his drink with dull talons; it seemed Galnius was not the only cop in need of comfort; Detective Adaraka had been quiet all day, but considering what we found, I didn’t blame him.

“It’s always different when it’s kids,” I said, placing the pinch under my lip.

He abandoned his kava with a snort. “This your normal, right? At C-Sec, I mean. Just an average shift on the Citadel.”

I thought of the bodies I had seen pulled out of the vents of the Wards, of the duct rats and refugees -though who was what, now- dying for literal scraps of rations. I thought of the mother who killed her baby as soon as he was born, too sick to afford treatment, almost dead from birth trauma in the Lower Ward slums before we got there. “It’s part of the job, yes.” I said it sharper than I intended.

_-bad day,’ I said, head on her shoulder. Ori ran her thumbs down the spines of my fins, and I wrapped my arms around her tightly, breathing in the scent of her neck. The waves could not drag me under when she held me, a solid warmth in my arms. ‘My Ori, I’m-_

My voice rasped and I cleared my throat. What I needed was a run to clear my head and a good night’s sleep. No chance of either tonight, obviously. “We’ll find the bastards.”

Somehow my reaction had surprised him, and Adaraka looked away to hide it. “This is a quiet colony. Things like this don’t happen often. Our last reported murder was twenty years ago.”

It’s strange. I read his file, I knew he fought in the war; both of us could rationalise the brutality of god machines ransacking the galaxy on an interstellar level, but the depravity of normal people could still catch us off guard. “You’re a cop,” I told him.

“That I am,” he replied, giving me a mock salute. “I signed up for this, huh?”

Small communities might have fewer bastards than usual, but they existed- even in pleasant garden worlds. “It’s not all ration theft and graffiti.”

We both watched the rippling water, buffered by the trail of the passing carriers still drudging Lake Victory with their drones. “Epiteia was meant to be my fresh start.” Adaraka leaned forward, his arms on his knees. “Moved here with my girl a few years back after the war.”

A puzzle piece clicked into place. It didn’t take a genius to grasp that ‘his girl’ wasn’t around anymore, judging by how Adaraka seemed to flirt -and sleep- with anything in sight. “Oh?”

He shrugged, a human gesture. “This place is home for interspecies couples. Ones approved by the Hierarchy, anyway.”

It was exactly in line with what Oriana had told me last night, and I wondered how long his government had been planning the venture. “Half the station seems that way inclined,” I said, thinking of the Captain and Sully. Humans and turians were happy to pair up once they got past their physical differences, especially if both were military minded. “With humans, too.”

“Yeah, funny how it goes. She was human, my Evangeline,” he said. He looked away, voice soft. “Guess we understand each other a little bit better than most, huh?”

All I could do was shrug. It was not as if I could judge him his choice- my apartment was covered in so much fur the cleaning VI had troubles keeping up with it all, and what a fun guessing game it was to work out if it was Fish or Oriana shedding themselves all over my furniture and clothing.

I could’ve said that I was like him too, but it felt like a cruel dig; I had something he had lost. “Nothing wrong with that,” I replied, idly wondering if my relationship with Ori would become station gossip somehow. I had already told Sully, after all.

“Most of the refugees are still turian obviously,” he said, eyes on the lake still. “But the Primarch has high hopes for us, did you know? Wants to turn Epiteia into a multicultural paradise, or something. I was sold into the pitch, anyway. They’re building a university and expanding the hospital around it, part of the reason we moved here- so Eva could get a job.”

“It made the news,” I replied. It also explained why a cop like him was here instead of a busier colony. Epiteia was the place you retired to, not build a career around. I presumed all the alien residents here were handpicked to trial the interspecies idea. “You can still move,” I said. “If, ah, she’s not around anymore.”

Adaraka smiled, even if his words didn’t match the gesture. “It didn’t work out,” he said. What loaded four little words they were.

I should call Oriana again- I needed to, even if she was still mad with me. “Sorry to hear that,” I replied.

“Excrement happens, as Sully says. At least, I think that’s what she says.” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost apologetic at the overshare of his private life. “The universe doesn’t stop just because I want it to, I guess. I should get back to work, since I’m in charge of the search parties.”

“I’ll join you in a few. I came to pick up my own,” I said, gesturing to the carrier. “Going back to shower, then back to it.” Back to the depths again, lucky me.

“No rest? You salarian?”

I shrugged, grinning. “I can cope. See you later, Adaraka.”

The carrier still smelt of lake water as I drove it back to my temporary home. What I needed was a hot meal and a reminder of who I was, and in the silence of my prefab I had neither. If I was in my apartment, I would collapse on the couch and watch game show vids until Oriana came back- that would be my ideal. She would take one look at me and know I had a shit day and-

_-the answer is Dragel. Idiots!’ I said, folding my arms at the trivia vid. Fish startled herself awake from her corner of the couch, twitching her ears at the interruption; that I was watching vids on “her” bed was offensive enough. Oriana leaned against the kitchen counter, frowning at something. ‘I think I ruined dinner again. You want takeou-_

Ah, not that I would have time to indulge like that, especially on a case like this. Back in Zakera all I would do is eat over the sink and walk out again, who am I kidding?

Perhaps I relied too heavily on Oriana to chase the demons away. Behind every stressed cop there’s always a loved one left to pick up the pieces, and I would not let her shoulder the burden again. Ori was still wrung out from my Internal Affairs inquiry; compassion was not an infinite source, even if she loved me.

I tried calling her anyway, only to get through to her Do Not Disturb message; she was either travelling or working, the usual with her. As I heated a ration pack, I sent a mail: ‘I miss you. Bad day. I need to see you.’

The orange text blinked back at me from omni-tool window, and I deleted the words with a swipe. I knew I was selfish with my desires, but I still felt them. At least I had not become the disassociating stranger I was a month ago; I was in the here and now, despite the severity of the case.

With a sigh, I tried again. ‘Got your vidmail this morning, though the line was bad. Look after yourself out there, and I hope work goes smoothly. I miss you, even miss the Fish. Talk soon. (Love from your Idiot.)’

I pushed aside my lava-like meal as soon as I sent her the message, and curled up on the musty smelling couch to let it cool. My unmade bed was only down the hall, but it felt like I had an ocean in the way to reach it. I had to go back to work soon, but I could indulge with a good memory, if only for a-

- _my skin did not affect her as it used to, but a kiss was a kiss. Mithridatism, she called it. Weaned off from our constant need to tou-_

“Intruder alert.” VITA woke herself up, an orange glow disturbing my recollection. “Your blood sugars are low, Detective Krios. You should eat something.”

“Fuck off,” I hit where my omni-tool vibrated on my arm, reaching for my pistol in the other. As I opened the access panel I frowned. How by all the Gods would VITA know something like that? I did not connect her to the prefab’s intranet system. Why would she be able to detect anything at all, was she malfunctioning?

“Intruder alert,” she said again, overriding my silence on her alarm. “Hydronic levels are at a moderate level.”

As the door hissed open, an info drone floated mid-air. It blinked its lights at me, probe extended into the lock. “Whoops,” it said, flying off above my head.

 _Whoops?_  I scanned the horizon looking for whoever owned it. It could be part of the still running search party, but the thing looked too lightweight; a modded info drone, not a search vessel.

“This is C-Sec. Ah, the police. Stay where you are or I’ll shoot.” I was talking to a drone, unsure if I should override it or shoot. Instead I found myself watching it escape, reluctant to use my gun. Perhaps it was part of the search and rescue teams combing the lake, despite fiddling with the locks of my prefab.

Why did VITA warn me? “VITA, search for intruders.” I brought up her interface on my omni-tool, curious now.

“I do not understand the command,” she said, orange lights blinking at me. “Would you like me to search for security programs?”

“No.” With a huff I switched her off. I could just make out a silver light of the drone still, a lonely dot above the water.

“604 in progress over the lake, 500 metres from my position,” I said, calling in the emergency line on my omni-tool. I had used the code for a suspicious person, even if was a mechanical VI. “Subject is an info-drone around 50 centimetres wide and heading your way.”

“You want us to look for an info-drone,” said Officer Terix, answering the commline first. He made no effort to keep the disbelief out of his reply. “As a suspect.”

“Exactly that, yes. Glad your translators work.” As soon as I said it, I knew it was a waste of time. Of course it was.

“Let me just clarify this DI Krios, just to make sure. You want us to stop looking for the missing children and instead look for a drone over a lake full of other drones. And it’s a suspect for- what, exactly?”

“Watch your tone.” For a turian, Terix had an abundant amount of sass. “Just- I don’t know, keep an eye out while you’re out there, it went towards you. Lightweight, fifty centimetres, blue lights.”

“Right,” he drawled. “I’ll get on that. Terix out.”

I punched the access point a little too hard when I reached my prefab. So much for a moment to myself, and went back to work. I had to find Kaeruns Abtion’s and Juvus Caeplin's killers, even if it meant no rest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tough chapter, this one; I hope you are okay reading.


	15. Email Interlude: Day 3

**To:**  Kolyat Krios, Personal Mail  
**From** : A.O Bailey, Personal Mail  
**Subject:**  Fish [ _ cat1.jpg _ ] [ _ cat2.jpg _ ]

Krios,

Your girlfriend thought it would be best if the cat stayed at yours, just went in to check in to see if the VI still works. I thought it escaped, turned out it was under your bed. I took pictures as evidence, just to make sure. That thing don’t like me much, sorry- I tried my best.

About your current situ: yeah that’s a whole pile of shit for later, though I might have got you something. You’re not doing this to me again, son- I had to talk politics. You never make it easy, do you?

I’ll call you later, ETA 1400 Citadel time. I’ll keep it brief.

-Bailey   
  


* * *

 

**To:** Detective K. Krios, C-Sec District 12: ZW-3498  
**From** : Detective Investigator C. Vakarian, District 01: PR-5012  
**Subject:**  Transcript #1 - Subject: ZW3498 [ _ interview1.wav _ ]

DI Krios,

Per C-Sec regulation and your rights, here is a transcript of yesterday’s informal interview. My decision on the inquiry is still ongoing; please do not contact me further for details.

-Investigator Vakarian

* * *

 

**To:**  Kolyat Krios, Personal Mail  
**From** : Oriana Lee, Personal Mail  
**Subject** : RE: miss you

Hello idiot,

I heard the news about the little boy you found; it made the Hierarchy News Network. I’m sorry you’re dealing with that, it can’t be easy.

Maybe this is something I shouldn’t do over a mail, but I spoke to Bailey yesterday. He says a lot of our problems can be solved by us talking to each other like adults, who knew? Bailey managed to explain a few things, even if you won’t talk to me about them; I know you shield me from your work, you don’t have to tell me everything. But please stop shutting down on me.

This month has been stressful for me, and I won’t lie- I still think you’re kind of an idiot. But! I’m not going anywhere. I’ve promised Bailey we’d go on a holiday this year, that I’ll take you somewhere nice- no work for either of us, just pure vacation time. I was thinking maybe December- we can visit Randa in the snow and I can show you what a human Christmas is like! If you can handle the cold.

I miss you too you know. Blink, and you’ll see me soon, I swear. Not getting rid of me yet, even though you gave it a good try.

-your Ori

 

* * *

 

**To:**  Kolyat Krios, Personal Email  
**From:**  Bateseta “Bats” T’Lori, Personal Email  
**Subject:**  U R AN ASSHOLE ☐☐☐

I swear on Athame’s sweaty, plump titties, Kol. ☐ If I have to clean your weird pet’s ☐ shit box AGAIN I am going to leave the ☐ on your desk. ☐☐

FUCKING WHY

-Bats ☐☐☐

[ _ Note: part of this message could not be translated. You need to install: EmotionIcons v.3.02: Asari Edition. Would you like to install this now? _ ]

 

* * *

**  
To:** Kolyat Krios, Personal Mail  
**From** : SewBot 2.0: Your Personal Tailor For The Extranet  
**Subject:**  This Week’s Alerts, As Chosen By You!

Sere Krios,

We noticed you have added new search terms for us to look out for.

Here is a condensed version of your updated alerts, made to measure for your perusal. To change the frequency of these mails, please adjust your feed settings accordingly.

-SewBot

=======

**EXTRANET SEARCH ALERT: EPITEIA [134 mentions, 5 new articles]**

_ Hierarchy News Network, 34 minutes ago: _  The body of a six-year-old boy was found yesterday afternoon in Epiteia’s Lake Victory. The local police and civilian security are treating the matter as suspicious. More to come over the next hour.

=======

**EXTRANET SEARCH ALERT: MENETINA ABICOLUS [114 mentions, 3 new articles]**

_ Epiteia News, two days ago: _  Residents of Victory Rising have been urged to keep the upcoming weekend clear in their diary as the colony’s annual Unification Day Picnic will be taking place in the park.

Highlights of the holiday event will include a performance by the 6724th Legion’s Drumming Band and a programme of rhythmic exercises set to popular music by the ‘Victorious Voomers’ from the local Secondary School.

The noon event, which will also include a barbecue on the forecourt by the fountain, is being organised by the Epiteian Colony Association in aid of the Lifebearer Brigade.

=======

**EXTRANET SEARCH ALERT: PRIMARCH TRENIGIUS [674 mentions, 12 new articles]**

_ Alliance News Network, one day ago: _  Primarch Trenigius has unveiled 500 million credit plans to transform and expand Epiteia’s Victory Hospital into a place of learning.

Education bosses say they are investing into the ‘multicultural student experience,’ with changes taking place over the next ten years to create new teaching facilities, improve student accommodation and create a better public access for all species.

The Hierarchy’s education leaders are currently in talks with the Epiteian Colony Association to determine how it will take shape. Trenigius says: “This is a new era for the Hierarchy; one where we stand side by side with our alien allies and learn from them.”

Funding will come from the Castellus system’s annual income, along with a bond from the Hierarchy Education department. Among the plans is the creation of a Cultural Exchange Centre next to the proposed university space, bringing industry and academic research together. A building schedule is underway, and construction should begin in 2195, with a planned 2197/98 start for new students.

=======

**EXTRANET SEARCH ALERT: BLACKWATCH [3461 mentions, 342 new articles]**

_ Galactic Globe, one day ago: _  Blackwatch soldiers have been spotted in the Caestus system residing in northern districts of the troubled turian-owned Invictus, where a militia group calling themselves the Cultural Independence Fighters remain in hiding.

Activists said that between 50 and 60 armed turian troops were spotted north of the planet where C.I.F agents are said to be based. The plain-clothed soldiers were spotted carrying rifles and riding black armoured vehicles, but no reports of heavy weaponry or a uniform have been stated.

"They are based in officer housing at Invictus’s defence factories," our anonymous source says. It would be the first major deployment of Blackwatch outside its bases in Manae and Palaven, although the Special Ops soldiers are known to have fought alongside local turian forces in smaller numbers.

_ Galactic Globe _  reports exclusively that Blackwatch troops will be used to support Hierarchy forces in the city, manning checkpoints and intelligence centres at regime territories.

The militia that makes up the Anti Unification activists believe the Blackwatch presence might be in preparation for a major attack, though few have any idea how they will take shape or if it will be implemented at all.

“We are here to talk,” says Primarch Victus. “Our people have suffered enough. Ours is a new era of understanding, and I hope the Invictus rebels are listening because I am listening to them. If I can work with krogan, I can work with you.”

Hierarchy and C.I.F representatives have been meeting in Palaven to try iron out a ceasefire agreement, but the recent murder of their agent in Cipritine cast doubt that the Hierarchy wants to talk to C.I.F in the first place.

The Caestrus system’s Primarch Vemix is keen to point out that: “Invictus is, and always will be, Unified with the Hierarchy. This is a fringe band of rebels that are in hiding, who refuse to listen to both reason and the laws of our people.”

 

* * *

 

**To:**  Detective K. Krios, C-Sec District 12: ZW-3498  
**From** : CSI Amia Vulis, EP-Sec: 8372  
**Subject** : RE: case number EP-42375

Detectives,

The autopsy report is not finished, but if you have questions regarding the Juvus Caeplin case, please visit my lab. I have found several strands of DNA in the crate not belonging to the victim, and have a possible list of suspects.

I will be working all day from the time of this email.

-CSI Vulis

 

Marien Building of Science and Technology,  
Victory Ridge Hospital,  
Epitea

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An accompanying one-shot featuring Oriana and Commander Bailey can be read [**[HERE]**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12835704) and is referenced in these emails.


	16. The List

LAKE VICTORY, DAY 3. _  
6:45am_

When I was small, my father told me I should always face my problems bravely, even if they were frightening. Easier said than done, even as an adult- especially when I faced the bowels of the lake again.

I was still the only person in the colony with a watercraft vehicle. A specialised diving team was due to arrive mid-morning, but until then there was only me and my Kodiak.

I did the very thing that forced my father back into my life, even though I was wide awake when we met. I dissociated myself from the now, a forced disconnection to calm my panic at being underwater _one last time._  I found myself indulging more in memories this month then I had the entire year- stress was one hell of a motivator.

Maybe the remaining kids weren’t in the waters. Maybe whoever took them only wanted little girls, not little boys. But two children were missing, and we still had to find them. There was no choice but to grit my teeth and get on with it, feeding myself a piecemeal of memories to cope.

Some of the ones I used seemed dull in comparison but were soothing all the same. It was sharing a bag of fried seaweed doughballs with T’Lori after a shift, talking about nothing in particular; hearing Oriana practise at the piano -her violin still too painful to play- frowning at her mistakes; lying on the couch with a politely distant Fish, watching a documentary on her ancestors.

They were everyday things, but they were still only memories. It was hard to be a stoic wall surrounded by the stuff of my literal nightmares, but both the Kodiak’s autopilot and my disassociation helped me survive a second time in the-

_-water never forgets. Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall; it will not stop you,’ he said. We were on Earth, staring at a dry landscape thousands of kilometres from the sea, for once breathing in arid air. ‘Even the most stoic of stone knows this-_

Fuck your water, Father. I’d rather be a fucking tree, maybe Galnius and his turian poets had the right idea; you do know where you are with one, even against a raging tsunami. I might lose a branch from the occasional passing storm, but I’m still standing, still alive in a way that-

_-I ask forgiveness. Kalahira, whose waves wear down stone and sand-_

Even my mother said nothing could outrun the ocean, and she barely believed in anything. Odd that she married my father, considering his devoutness to the Gods. Odd that she married him at all, but I suppose I wouldn’t be here if she didn’t feel something. At my age, they already had a child and an expensive mortgage to juggle; unthinkable to other races, but not on Kahje.

There you settled down as soon as you were able, a cultural hangup even independent drell agreed to. Lie back and think of extinction, fuck for the good of your people. Only half a million of us exist, but I had no desire to add to our thinning gene pool- not because of my alien girlfriend, as most assumed. I would not be a father, not by choice.

I thought then of the Caeplins, a young family caught in grief. I knew they would always look at the water and see death, just as I do. Perhaps time would treat their memories more kindly than it did mine-

_-my fists thumped the back of his legs as it rained, her body taken to the sea. I don’t understand, why is Mami gone? ‘Bring her back, Father-_

Gods thrice fuck it,  _enough._

No more, why was I doing this to myself? I had been alone with my thoughts for too long now and had to do something else to silence them. Did my father really live ten years like this, stuck in endlessly looping playbacks? I would not.

Solve the case, go home. Back to seaweed dumplings after a long shift, awful piano practise and snotty cats who have no idea how good they have it. All of this brooding indulgence was from lack of sleep, anyway. Tonight I would allow myself more than a light nap. Running on caffeine and fumes was not smart for a DI, especially one spread so thin.

CSI Vulis had found me something at least. While most of us combed the lake and came up with literal trash, she had made a start on the autopsy and analysed all the contents of the crate.

There was now matched DNA to go through and a list of suspects to evaluate, work I could do without staring at my memories. I would take it with both hands, even if was from the morgue.

After an attempt at breakfast and another security sweep of my prefab for rogue VIs, I found myself heading to Vulis’s place of work at seven in the morning.

The forensic office was stationed at the hospital, away from the precinct.  For a colony so small, it made sense. I assumed she doubled up as the hospital’s resident coroner and dealt more with skycar accidents and Corpalis Syndrome victims; double murder investigations was not a normal working week in Epiteia.  

I could see a curious pair of orderlies smoking by the entrance as I parked, eyeing my uniform and carrier. I suppose not many drell detectives strolled around their workplace, but I was in no mood to do more than nod.

Vulis was separated from two double doors and a glass panel when I walked into her lab. CLEAN ROOM: DO NOT ENTER flashed in holo and I waited, but she was too wrapped up scanning the crate to notice me. Since I had no desire to suit up and face the decontamination chamber, I rapped the window, impatient for her attention.

She walked up to the glass and opened her omni-tool before she spoke, switching on the audio output of the room. “Just you, DI Krios?” Her voice was tinny from the speakers, but I could hear her fine.

“For now. Does our silent witness speak?” I asked, gesturing to the quiet room she worked in. Cyropods of the victims lay on the shelf, names visible even from the window. Thankfully I was spared the sight of seeing Juvus Caeplin laid out.

“Depends,” she said. Investigating detectives needed something to go on, no matter how small the detail; CSI often refused to hypothesise, even if they were 98% sure.

“On?” Both of us knew this dance, it seemed.

“I don’t like assuming. Until I get ballistics, I can only give you estimates.”

That meant she knew but was covering her plated ass. “Single gunshot wound to the head by a handgun?” I said.

I could see her jaw tighten as she nodded, reluctant to share her opinion. “But don’t quote me on this, not until the fragments are analysed.”

I gestured through the glass at the opened crate. “You mentioned the crate in the email.”

“Hmm? Oh. Yes, the DNA strands. Check the datapad to your left, the one with a purple mark on it. I could get a clear identification on all of the list, but the bioscanners can only gauge within a 24-hour window.”

The pad was scratched by regular talon use, but the names were clearly labelled: Pliva Duvitus and Vitelia Aberdas made sense considering they were all last seen together, but the presence of DNA from their parents was a little more worrying; as was Gaius Aberdas, the teen who had identified Kaeruns Abtion for me near his home. There was also a name I did not know: Selus Ororian. It sounded both male and turian.

“This will do nicely.” CSI Vulis paused at my words, brow plates raised slightly. Perhaps my enthusiasm for evidence was poorly timed, considering where I was. “Ah, apologies, CSI Vulis.”

“It’s a stressful case,” she said, brushing off my outburst.

Stressful for them, perhaps; I was the outsider here. “Who’s this Selus Ororian, you know?”

“That’s your job to find out,” she said. “But the database tells me he’s a sanitation worker here. I found fragments of his talons in the crate, by the way. Tiny, but there.”

 _Interesting_. “And what about our Mr. Abtion- anything tying him to what we found yesterday?”

She huffed a sigh. “No. Not that I’ve found.”

I had to try. The link between the two was tenuous at best, but it was still too much of a coincidence to ignore. “Anything else for me, CSI Vulis?” I asked. There was plenty to go on, but with CSI there was always something more they could give- especially with a demure prodding.

“Other than a list of possible child killers living in my colony, detective?” Her disgust wasn’t anything I heard before. It was often the case with homicides, no matter the species. Gone was the big bad slavers and the danger of strangers- instead the unsettling nature of something more local had revealed itself, where murderers stood in line for their rations like everyone else.

No community likes to look too hard at themselves; it seemed even veteran crime scene investigators had troubles with it. “About what we found Juvus in, perhaps,” I asked her, gently reminding her why I was here. “You already told me about the weapons and the DNA evidence; I wondered if we had anything else to go on with the crate.”

“Hmm.” Vulis peeled off her gloves over the trash can, still annoyed. “If it were left any longer, water would’ve seeped in. Conditions were anaerobic, but another few days and I would be looking at contaminated evidence. These crates are made for space travel, not to survive water.”

“We got to Juvus in time.”  I didn’t know what else to say.

“Not soon enough.” I could see she was tired, but her work was not done- not yet. “There was a cursory attempt with bleach to clean it inside, but oddly not as thorough as the Abtion scene. A weaker solution too, the kind used for most domestic cleaning VIs.”

“Premeditation again,” I replied, and watched her suffer through the decon-chamber before she could join me in her office.

The lights lit up safety green, and Vulis sat down at her desk with a groan as soon as she was able. “Same as before. But with a different solution this time, less industrial. This one even had a fragrance- maesia pine, if you’re interested.”

She handed me a datapad of the Abtion scene analysis; literal years of reading them meant I understood most of it, but some of the medical terms still tripped me up, especially the chemical analysis. “We should look into heavy duty cleaning suppliers,” I said, squinting at the scrolling text. I knew what _0.5% solution of hypochlorite_  meant at least.

“Yes. Has to be shipped into the colony if you want it, but of course, the schools and the hospitals here have access to the stronger stuff too,” she replied. “Still very easy to get hold of, I’m afraid. Most places that clean on a large scale will have some around.”

I shrugged. It was the same on the Wards, but evidence of a suspect buying the stuff was often enough to build a case. “Of course.”

Vulis rubbed at the softer hide around her eyes, looking as beaten as I felt. “The final report should be done by midday,” she said, vaguely waving to the terminal in front of her. “I’ve pulled in some favours from another colony to get the ballistic work done in all three cases. They always take the longest.”

Three? Ah, yes. My dance with a bullet two days ago. Bailey mentioned in his email he might have something for me concerning Blackwatch, which probably meant it would be slipped under the table off record. Hurray.

“Very thorough. Could do with you on the Citadel,” I replied, plastering on a genuine smile.

Vulis ignored it and reached for her cold kava. “Anything else, detective?”

So much for pleasantries. “I need to get back and deal with this,” I said, waving the datapad in the air. “Thank you for everything.”

My eyes flicked once last time through the glass where Juvus lay, cold and lonely on his shelf. I knew he had died from a gunshot wound, but-

- _Laeta Caeplin collapsed against her husband’s cowl once she finally realised what it was I was saying, limp with grief. ‘He doesn’t like being alone,’ she said. ‘Why was he alone-_

Not all the parents had alibis. ‘I was at home’ was not good enough, but at least I was dealing with turians. Theirs was a culture of admitting fault; it was turian suspects who folded when the merest hint of evidence was waved under their noses, but they could still lie and cheat and murder, even under the stress of grief.

Just as shitty as the rest of the galaxy, but Vulis had other ideas. “Wait.” A taloned hand was placed on my arm before I could go and I looked down at it. My species had clearly defined social boundaries, especially with aliens; drell weren’t touch obsessed for a reason.

“Things like this don’t happen in Epiteia,” she said, nodding her head towards the cryo pods. “Two murders in a week is not normal. Please find whoever did this.”

She let me go and resisted the urge to flick my jacket into shape. Vulis might be older and out of shape, but when a turian scraping two metres stopped you, you stopped. “It’s my job to,” I said, using the words she told me yesterday.

“Find them.”

There was no reply I could give that would not come out as sarcastic, and I nodded once, leaving her alone with the dead once more.

I could head on towards the station, but thanks to Sully, I knew Icina Duvitus was in the hospital thanks to her untimely collapse yesterday. It was barely 8 am in the colony, but I still had a list to work through.

Hospitals stunk the same the universe over and reeked worse during feeding time. Trays of food stacked on trolleys waited outside the ward I needed according to the front desk. No matter how they were sealed, they still reeked. I have stood in so many hospitals, both for work and-

_-it ain’t shit,’ said Bats, showing me his very scarred shoulder. I helped myself to his tupa pudding; he wasn’t eating it and I was starving. ‘Thank fuck for biotics, huh? Slowed the bullet down-_

An honest to Gods asari was at the nurse’s station; the pair of us stood out in all our shiny blue glory, confused as the other why we were there.

As I let the second decontamination unit to its job, she eyed me curiously. It felt like an age since I saw her kind thanks to this case. “Hi,” I said, then looked at my feet.

She ignored my awkwardness. “And what can I do for you, _sere_? Visiting hours aren’t until another hour.”

“I’m here to speak to Icina Duvitus,” I said, showing her my omni-ID as soon as I was free. A quick glance at the nameplate above her bosom labelled her as  _Nurse Anraes Shinis._  “On behalf of Epiteia’s Police and Security.”

Ms. Shinis grabbed my wrist and dragged it closer to her. “That says C-Sec, detective.”

They always noticed that, nothing else. “I’m here on loan.” I stabbed a finger over my Epiteian security clearance again, though she remained dubious. “Is Mrs. Duvitus awake?”

“No,” she replied. “We’ve not even had breakfast yet. Give her the decency of waking up and eating something, yes? That is if you have permission to even see her.”

“Hmm.” I looked into the closed wards and could see half a room free, with the curious swaying hammocks that made up a turian hospital bed. I had to sleep in one once during shift work, never again. “But she is awake, yes? It’s important I speak to her.”

“I’m sure it is,” she said, blue eyes on mine. “But not now. Do I have to stab you with a needle? I can do that, no problem.”

She said it in jest, but the threat remained; there was something in her gaze even a krogan would back down from. “Ah, no. Not yet,” I said, smiling at her. I looked over this Shinis again; she seemed too perky, probably facing the beginning of her work day rather than the end. “Can you tell me anything about her? Anything that sticks out?”

“Come back with a warrant.” I startled at that; this was a nurse who voraciously guarded her patients. A cop’s bane, especially when we needed witness statements.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t have some grudging respect for her defence, but she still made my job difficult- especially when I had a child killer to find. “It’s just a talk,” I said.

Shinis refused to budge. “Confidentiality is not something I just pass over. I will not share information with the police, not without the consent of the patient. Who is currently still sleeping, by the way.”

She knew her law; perhaps dealing with belligerent turians made her less amenable, but I had to try. “Surely you can think of something to tell me? Maybe a little thing you’ve noticed about Mrs. Duvitus. If you’ve got time for a chat, perhaps.”

“If this is your way of asking me out?” Judging by her smile, she meant that; scale chasers were everywhere. “But if you want access to my patient, then my answer’s still no, even if you do buy me a drink first. Sorry, officer.”

“It’s Detective. Detective Investigator Krios,” I told her. I adjusted my jacket with a flick. “I’ll come back later, then. With a warrant.”

“It’s almost like you’ve just repeated what I’ve been telling you since you got here,” she replied. “Funny.”

There was nothing to do but head back to my Kodiak and start setting up the incident room for the other officers. I was reaching for my _se’aus_ tin when I realised the alarms I heard outside were familiar, and that my vehicle was being attached to a larger flatbed X3M meant for transport.

“That’s my carrier!”

The turian paused in his work, fingers over his omni-tool. “You a Sere Kolyat Krios? Good, you can sign the waiver now. You can’t park here.”

“What? No. I’m police!” I had to shout over the alarms of my Kodiak; I silenced them with a blip of my own ’tool, annoyed.

“Yeah? So it says with the fancy holo,” he said, smiling. “Festive. C-Sec, huh? Bit far out.”

“I’m here with Epiteia’s Police and Security. Call the station to verify if you must, it won’t take long. I’m here on official business.”

He acted like I was dense. “But it’s illegally parked,” he said, squinting down at me. “There’s nothing you can do but accept this waiver. Sorry?”

I ignored his omni-tool. “I’m a law officer.” A headache had started to form in my brow; this day was going to go well, I could tell. “And I’m on duty.”

“So am I.” The depths save me from fucking turians, Arashu- I beg you. “I’m just doing my job, buddy.”

 _Buddy?_  That I hadn’t bodily shoved him against the damn carrier in cuffs to begin with meant I was still doing mine. “Let’s try this again.”

“There’s nothing to try,  _sere_. I gotta take it away.”

It was my turn to shove an omni-tool into his face. “You can see my ID, yes? I am within jurisdiction here.”

“You must be new.” He sighed, as bored of this as I was. “I saw it the first time, I know what you are. But you broke the law, see?”

It was like talking to a wall. “Why don’t you get yourself a kava and I call the captain. Captain Acilitis-Dixon,” I said, dropping her name like stone.

His facial plates shifted into something I could read as relief. Some turians were more than happy to shuffle their problems towards their superiors, especially when it meant they never had to see it -or more accurately,  _me_ -again. “You got five minutes. I’ll be back.”

I had no choice but to follow through with my threat. I rang AD’s omni-tool and hoped she was awake; I knew she was due in at nine to prepare for the press conference, but I assumed she was at home.

“Yes?” she answered. One word said so sharply; already this was not going to going well. “Can this wait?”

“It’s a minor matter,” I said. AD had answered with audio only, and I was left holding a conversation with her blank omni-ID. “I apologise for the early call, but-”

“Get on with it.” I heard the chatter of her children in the background, the sound of cereal hitting a bowl.

This wasn’t at all embarrassing. “I was wondering if you could clear up the matter of my Kodiak being towed away. I’m stranded at the hospital.”

“I distinctly remember giving you a standard issue police skycar for your work here. Why is your personal vehicle being towed away, DI Krios?”

“Good question,” I said. “I assumed parking it with my C-Sec registration and holo ID in view would be enough.” The words were said so tightly they hissed through my teeth.

“Then why by all the Spirits did you park like an idiot? We have regulations here. You can’t dump your carrier where you like and assume it’s okay, especially at a hospital.”

_-it’s such a waste,’ he said over his holopad. I was sent to Sere Grisa’s office again. ‘Students like you, it breaks my heart. You can be so much more than what you are, Krios. Use that sharp mind of yours to better yourse-_

“Ah-” the unwanted memory surge was accurate. I was a recalcitrant pupil in trouble with the school again. “I apologise for this… mishap. I was keen to see what CSI Vulis had. It is quite extensive, and I have to get on with eliminating the DNA profiles she found.”

“Hmm.” I had her then, from that little hum alone. “I will deal with this. AD out.”

It took her precisely two minutes to pull strings somewhere. The mass effect ramps released my shackled vehicle with a gentle thump, and the Kodiak was mine again.

The parking attendant didn’t seem to care, either way. “You still have to sign the release form,” he said, sipping his kava. “But then you can go.”

My look was sharp enough for him to hold up the datapad like a shield. Eventually, I thawed, annoyed I had to. “Fine. Hand it over.”

 _Fucking turians_. I signed his damn paperwork; of course, this would end up on record somewhere. “I’d say it was a pleasure,” he said. “But I don’t think you’d agree.”

I was in the carrier before he could say something else, and as soon as I was in the air l put my head in my heads, trying to breathe through my anger. A five-minute indulgence of thinking about something that wasn’t Epiteia would help; after the morning I had it was allowed, even it was barely past breakfast.

I thought of her.

Oriana’s words had surprised me. She said she had moved on from her hurt, but I was more worried about why Bailey had told her to forgive me so easily-

_-tasted the tea in my mouth as I read her words, the kind I made her in the morning before our shifts. ‘He says a lot of our problems can be solved by us talking to each other like adults, who knew? Bailey managed to explain a few things, even if you won’t talk-_

She was my Ori again, though I felt guilty she had slipped into forgiveness so easily. I had expected at least a week’s worth of more grovelling before I could make it up to her, if at all.

One last recall of her fingers tracing the scales of my middle fingers and I pushed Oriana out of my mind, parking the carrier just outside the garage with the same enthusiasm as I did at the hospital- though this time I made sure it wouldn’t be towed away.

It was now time to face my investigation team again, or at least what made up one in Epiteia. We had all worked overtime through the night; there was still so much to do.

Sully was setting up the drinks table as she did yesterday, and looked as tired as I felt. “Any tea?” I asked, rubbing my face.

“Only thing levo is coffee or water.”

“Ugh. Fine.” At least I hadn’t sunk as low as stim abuse yet, but I would have to make do. “This stuff is funnelled from the Depths itself,” I said, staring at the brown sludge she gave me with distaste.

“You drink this for pleasure, do you?”

“It’s not that bad,” Sully replied, defensive. “I mean, you get used to the kava aftertaste eventually.”

All the glaring in the universe wouldn’t make me drink it faster. I knocked half of it back, burning my tongue in the process. “Son of a bitch.”

“It’s hot?” she said, stating the obvious. “Don’t do that.”

“No shit.” Why, why do aliens drink this for fun? Disgusting. “What is it with your kind and this crap? What’s wrong with tea?”

“You sound like my dad.” Her face wavered at her own memories, and I knew where she was. “It’s what he used to say to my mum-

_-the cruiser sped along as she talked. ‘There was nothing for me on Earth, anyway.’ Sully fiddled with her braid as she drove. ‘Not anymore-_

-he never liked coffee either.” She smiled to cover up her sad lapse into memory. I knew from Oriana that humans could remember just as deeply, though perhaps not as vivid. “You need me for anything before the meeting?”

“Nope. Give me a minute to set this up,” I said, gesturing to the blank wall.

Other species needed visuals to remember the case, and in the quiet of the incident room away from the prying eyes of the public we could indulge and set up a board. Juvus Caeplin’s recent school photo was pinned to a blank screen, alongside a three year holo of Kaeruns Abtion in front of a public garden.

I was typing out the list of the found DNA strands when most of the team arrived, punctually turian. “Oh no,” I heard behind me. It sounded like Galnius, as disappointed with the names as CSI Vulis was. 

This was not going to be a pleasant meeting. I let them get their kava with my back turned to them still, intent on listing the DNA evidence found at the scene.

Faint traces of his father and mother lingered on his clothes, which I expected. As did Pliva Duvitus’s, one of the missing children; her DNA was the largest trace found, followed by that of Icina and Amlio Duvitus, which was curious. The remaining missing child’s DNA was also present, as was her father’s and her brother’s- Vitelia, Rixar and Gaius Aberdas was either in contact with Juvus or the crate the day he died.

Selus Ororian, the turian who Vulis had identified as a 37-year-old sanitation worker, was last on my list. He was the only odd connection to an otherwise familiar roll call of names, a millimetre scrap of his talon found lodged in plastic.

Judging by the cold silence behind me it was not the news they wanted. “Not read the report, then?” I said, facing them. “There was presence of bleach in the crate and on the victim, though not enough to scrub all the evidence clean. We have a list to work through.”

Galnius and Terix looked away. Adaraka stared at the photo of Juvus, thoughtful. “Anything else?” he asked.

I thought we had our hands full for the morning as it is, but there was always something to do. “Ballistics isn’t done, neither is the autopsy. All Vulis would give me is death by single gunshot wound to the head. I would also like that vehicle list the day the children went missing done ASAP- Terix, you were working on that. You’re doing it again today.”

“On it,” he mumbled, reaching for his kava.

They looked at me like I had the answers for everything. “We've got a lot to get through,” I said. “We're already behind thanks to no resources. Look around you; this is the entire team for this case. We just need to hit the ground running.”

Galnius saluted so sharply I heard his hardsuit click. “Yes, sir.”

“You don’t have to do that, Galnius,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek. “Priorities today are as followed: technical data retrieval from omni-tools and vid feeds, and alibi follow-ups.”

“We just have to clear the families,” said Sully. “Remove them from the list. I mean, it makes sense the DNA is there, yeah?”

“Clear?” I frowned at the word. “We check their alibis and question why we found their DNA on a body shoved inside a crate, Officer Sully. Our victim is a murdered six-year-old boy. Do not forget this.”

“I haven’t, of course I haven’t. It’s just-” she stopped herself, clearing her throat before she spoke again. “I don’t think the Aberdas family had anything to do with his death if my opinion is worth anything. They’re Vita’s parents- their child is still missing.”

I inhaled a sharp intake of breath before speaking. This again. “I know you have been visiting their home, but you have to stop thinking of them as friends.”

“They’re not friends exactly,” she replied, defending herself. “It’s just that I got to know them, and— well.” She never completed her sentence.

She was an officer of the law; if she wanted to make detective, then it was time to let her know the Gods damned basics of policing. “Gut feeling and opinions won’t hold up in court. Assume nothing, believe nobody, check everything.”

Sully wasn’t letting it go, not yet. “But what motive could they possibly have to kill a little boy? Those kids were in each other’s houses all the time, so Rixar says. He fed that child at his own table.”

I itched at a loose scale behind my frill, annoyed now. “Doesn’t matter what I think the motive is, this is a process of elimination. We follow the evidence where it leads.”

This was a fight she would not back down from, but neither would I. The turians in the room all gave her the side eye; sassing the officer in charge was so very human. “Look, if I were murdered and shoved in a crate, everyone’s DNA I came in contact with in the past day would probably be on me too. Even yours.”

“ _Enough!_ ” I said it with all the anger two hours of sleep could only create, knowing exactly where this argument would be going. “I understand, I really do. You’ve all told me in your own way just how wrong this is. But you’re cops, like it or not.”

Adaraka straightened his back. “Who’s doing what, then?”

That’s what I wanted to hear, not this endless foot dragging around the theory of evidence. Still, I had to hammer the point home. “I’ll get to that,” I told him, then looked Sully square in the eye. “For all we know the presence of the other family’s DNA may barely be circumstantial,  _however_. Until we start rattling doors we won’t know, will we? Do you all understand?”

Terix’s rumbled “yessir” was the loudest above the murmur, but it was hardly reassuring.

“Didn’t quite hear that. Because I’m not having this conversation again, so help me Gods. You’ve trained for this.”

“Yes, sir,” Sully replied, looking away. They all followed suit soon after.

She had a point, of course she did. The DNA connection was somewhat coincidental, but it was still a connection. For all I knew Rixar Aberdas had nothing to do with Juvus’s murder, but until then his DNA was still present- as was that of his children.

Galnius almost saluted again, but I still caught the gesture. “Ah, right- sorry,” he said, looking at his hand. “What about Mr. Abtions, DI Krios?” he asked, nodding to the image behind me. “How’s he connected to the poor lad?”

“Same answer as yesterday, Sergeant. He was there when the children went missing.”

_Bathtub, rifle, legion, missing._

“You sure it’s even connected?” asked Adaraka.

“It’s connected,” I replied. “He was seen at the scene and was somehow murdered after. Call it a hunch.” That at least got a chuckle. I drank the last of the bitter dregs of the coffee, wondering what to do next.

This case hinged on the exact time and place the children were taken- for me, the why would come later. We still had to work through the DNA list before anything else could happen, but I would still make Officer Terix look into the camera feeds for unaccounted vehicles; the appearance of Juvus’s body yesterday meant his shift was spent drudging the lake with the rest of us.

I needed more officers and more time. I had neither.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for delay. Another chapter has been written for after this, so we're back on normal posting schedule!


	17. Conferences And Satellites

EPITEIA POLICE STATION, DAY 3  
_8:45 am_

There was so much to do. Epiteia’s only answer to an Investigation team was still staring at me as if somehow I could wave my omni-tool and everything would be solved.

I could give them their jobs for the day, at least; we might be stretched thin, but at least I could count on them to do _something._

A polite human cough broke my thoughts. Yesterday I had assigned their tasks with bullet points and datapads; today was an exercise of throwing things to see what would stick.

“I have a press conference to attend to with Captain AD in an hour,” I said. “Sully, you’re with the Caeplin’s all morning; I suggest you leave now.  _Gently_  ask them about their DNA presence. If they ask questions about the other suspects, say we’re looking into a list, but mention no names. Also, prepare them for the press conference- I will be talking about their son.”

“Yes, sir.” I gave her a look, waiting for her to move. “Oh, now? You want me to leave now?”

I shrugged. “Would help, yes. Ask them about their guns, please. See if we can get them without a warrant.” I looked at the others again, talking a little louder as Sully prepared to go. “Adaraka, you’re with me. We’ve got enough time to interview our mystery man before the press descends on us like prattling _shunras._ ”

That’s how I knew the awful coffee wasn’t working yet; I let an idiom slip out. I avoided them at work so the conversation would flow uninterrupted, but of course I delighted in them with Ori since-

_-oriden. Ma’tori. Tunorien. Orishen.’ I said the words below her ear, smiling. ‘Orishen, orishen, ori-_

Galnius was desperate to ask what I had meant. “A  _shunra_  is a type of bird,” I replied, moments before he could speak over my memory. “Ah, vermin on Kahje. They steal food from your hands.”

It was an idiom not meant for a turian audience, for obvious reasons. I hoped they knew my avian slip up was an accident; judging by the chuckle, apparently so.

“Don’t think too highly of the press, DI Krios?” said Galnius. “Shame, Abi’s a lovely girl.” Of course, Galnius would call a fumbling hack _lovely._

Adaraka was oddly quiet. I would’ve thought the drop into humour would allow him a comeback or two, but he was more concerned with his omni-tool. “Detective Adaraka, did you hear what I said? We’re interviewing Selus Ororian as soon as this is over.”

“Yep,” he replied, eyes back to his ‘tool. “You know he works at the school, right? Selus Ororian, I mean. He’s part of the cleaning crew on the weekends. He would’ve known Juvus Caeplin and the other missing children.”

The tone was solemn again. Terix shifted from his lean and stood up straight, arms crossed. “Weird guy,” he said. “He drinks in the bar in town sometimes.”

It would be far easier for the colony to blame the  _weird_ loner than the children’s families, especially if the press caught wind of the suspects. Still, Selus Ororian’s DNA was present in the crate, and we had to deal with it like police.

Gods thrice fuck colonies and their weirdness. “Galnius- you can go over Abtion’s omni-tool record one last time,” I said, filing away the comment for later, and resisted the urge to scrub my face. Why was there no tea? The Depths take coffee.

“Better job than the lake.” Terix looked at the map on board, squinting at it. “Why do we even have a lake? What’s it for?”

“Pass, though I imagine the Hydroponics engineers speak differently,” I said, annoyed at the reminder of my time underwater. “At least we have a diving team, ETA two hours and counting. Captain AD is coordinating with the squad when they get here- Galnius, if they need anything, give it.”

He was trying so hard not to salute again. “Yes, sir.”

“You all know what you’re doing,” I said reaching for my coffee. Get on with it.”

I was bundling up a pinch of  _se’aus_ when Adaraka sidled up to me, rubbing a hand at the back of his fringe. “I know you want me for interviews,” he said. “But something’s come up.”

Nothing ever good came from  _up._  “What kind of something?”

“Someone I know from an old smuggling case says he has something. He was given special immunities for helping me out with information. I don’t know if you remember, I told you-”

I looked at him like an idiot. “Yes. I remember.”

“Right, ‘course you do. Sorry. Anyway, I just got a message. He says he has something for me about the missing kids.”

As DI I had control of his work schedule, but only assholes micromanaged their officers. Still, I needed something more to go on. “And?” I said.

Adaraka exhaled. “It might be nothing, but I think it’s about the skycar we found yesterday. The one with the murder weapon in it.”

“Vulis hasn’t given us the ballistics yet,” I said. “But let me talk to Terix first. Then you and I can swing by your man after we interview Ororian if there’s time.”

“ _Ah..._ ” he stared at his booted feet, unsure how to word his reply. “The thing is, he’s going to see you and run. He only trusts me, you know? I mean, you can wait in the cruiser while I go in, but-”

I knew the sort of snitch he meant; they were bastards to work with, and often wanted more than we could offer. “Is it worth it?”

Adaraka looked right at me, a glint of something in his eyes. “Yes. Scraff’s never let me down.”  _Scraff?_ Curious name for a turian, if he was one to begin with.

“Hmm.” I was still not convinced.

“I’ll only be an hour top,” he said. “I promise you this won’t take long.”

He was the local cop. This was his beat, not mine, so I gave in. “Fine,” I said. “Chase your lead. Back before the press conference ends, please.”

I looked at Terix after Adaraka left, arms clasped in front of me. “What?” he said.

He knew what. “You never did give me your report yesterday.”

“That’s because you ordered me to the lake,” he replied.  “And to chase a stupid VI.”

Ah yes. That.  _“Hmm.”_

“There’s only one of me,” he said, defending himself.

“Get used to that.” I sat on his desk, eyes on his monitor. “What did you find, anyway?”

“Nothing on your mysterious VI, sorry. But I did find something of note on one of the hydroponics pumps. They use some kind of monitor for the chemicals in the water or something. All I know it has its own camera.”

He brought up the feed; it was a view of a pipe system roughly a kilometre from the Caeplin’s home, shielded by the forest. The main street where the two other children lived was further away, safe from view. “They were offline for two hours during the afternoon the kids went missing.”

“That’s not nothing,” I said. “That’s something.”

My glare was enough for him to defend himself again. “I literally just discovered it this morning,” he replied, hands up.  “I was going to call you over, I swear. I spent yesterday looking at the street feeds, only thought to check the lake now.”

“And it was the only thing deleted?” I asked. When the cameras were dampened on the street two days ago, whoever fired off the EMP did it with all the delicacy of a sledgehammer, taking out everything within a click of my location.

This hack was done with the delicacy of a scalpel, cutting away exactly what was needed. “It’s all I got so far, “ he answered. “The cameras around Fedorian Crescent weren’t tampered with; everything seemed normal there.”

I exhaled, knowing exactly what kind of policing would come next; endless sifting of data. The entire thing could be a dead end, but it could also be the start of closing in our killer. “Who has access to the hydroponics cameras?”

“Apart from hydroponic guys themselves? Everyone on our team obviously,” he said, smiling at me. “I didn’t do it.”

“Nor me,” said Galnius, not looking up from his monitor. “Though it would be nice to look at the camera feed of a pump from time to time- I bet it’s lovely and calming. Good view of the lake. All that water.”

I gave Terix a look, and he shrugged. Apparently, this was a normal everyday comment from his desk sergeant. “Oh, I guess the Hierarchy Intelligence Service can access our networks too, huh? And the STG, probably- they have fingers in everything. Grubby salarian bastards.”

“ _Hilarious._ ” Sure, let’s add another secret organisation poking my case, why not? I’ve already got Blackwatch pissing in it. “Apart from salarians, who accessed the camera that day?”

I watched Terix type and my fingers itched. It was always a pain to watch someone else use the monitor. “Most of us accessed the security network as soon as we heard the kids went missing, but we’d have to go in and ask to see the hydroponics intranet system to check their end.”

“Hmm.” It was another problem to solve, another thread to pull; meanwhile, I still had a fucking handful of knots I couldn’t put down.

“I can do that now if you like,” he said. “I know the head of security, Sivius is on my clawball team. Good guy.”

The image of the pipeline flickered briefly, still showing on Terix’s monitor. I thought of Vulis, standing next to the opened crate. We had found Juvus in that lake, wiped in bleach-

_-has to be shipped to the colony if you want it, but of course, the schools and the hospitals here have access to the stronger stuff too,’ said Vulis. ‘Still very easy to get hold of, I’m afraid-_

“-DI Krios?”

I shook myself free from the memory.  “Most people are sloppy when they kill. They get stressed and forget things. I don’t think our killer had enough time to completely cover their tracks,” I said. “Whoever killed Juvus and disposed of his body made a bad job of covering the DNA evidence. This was a rush job.”

Terix put his chin in his hands. I knew he didn’t like me, but at least he was beginning to thaw out. “And?” he said, waiting for me explain.

“Whoever deleted the feeds missed something, and we can get them still.”

He stretched out his fingers before he reached for the keys. “You want me to widen the net within the search area? The cameras along the main skycar paths, maybe? What about the other pumps? Give me a moment and I’ll look for the Lost Legion of Invictus while I’m at it.”

“Don’t clack your mandibles at me. It needs doing.” I was annoyed at the prospect of endless hours of vids, just as he was. “What VIs do you use?”

“Standard HI-VI program,” he replied. He said it  _high-vee_  in the way most turians were fond of;  _Hierarchy Virtual Interface Program_ was too much of a mouthful. “We only have the usual face and vehicle recognition software,” Terix replied. “Galnius keeps on calibrating it, but Captain AD yelled at him a couple of times for breaking the system.”

“I broke nothing,” Galnius said from his desk, annoyed at the conversation. “If you all listen I could improve the search algorithms with a bit of work. All it takes is a couple of-”

“ _Th_ ank _you_  Galnius,” I said, loudly. “Let me know when you’ve finished going over Mr. Abtion’s omni-tool records.”  

“Yes, sir,” he replied, still grumbling.

There was so much to do. I suppose I could see my mystery sanitation worker after the press conference, but interviewing a suspect with little knowledge of the case was useful; media got the news out fast. Instead, I faced the burden of data juggling, something I had so far managed to avoid.

“Move over,” I said.

When I was a child, I deliberately made awful tea just so my uncle would never ask me to do it again. I almost did the same in C-Sec during my beat days; if you’re too good at paperwork but too tech dumb for the Network Division, they put you in a windowless room and called you a Case Progression Unit officer.

It was something even a half-competent temp from an agency could do, and my instructors almost made me one due to my aptitude for handling data. I’ve always thought it was because I could use a search function properly- eidetic memory was only an afterthought.

“I think the remaining children were taken from the colony,” I said, bringing up the access to the satellite feeds. It was the last camera I had access to, right on the boundary of the colony.

Terix barked a laugh, more out of spite than humour. “Welcome to the world of turian policing. You’ll have to request permission to investigate from the 12th Fleet if this goes beyond Epiteian space, they won’t be pleased. You sure they’re off-world?”

While I dismissed Officer Sully for her gut feelings, I was still riding mine. “There’s no evidence of either Pliva or Lia being here, we only found Juvus. I don’t think the lake will bring up anything else.”

“The diving teams might have something by the end of the day,” Galnius said from across the room. “They have mechs, according to the email I got. You been in a mech before, DI Krios?”

I opened my mouth once, then shut it. “No.” Been shot at by one during a warehouse raid, but now was not the time for show and tell.

“Ah, shame. Did you know they come with a mass accelerator cannon for ground combat situations? They’re fed from the boosters to propel the-”

“Fascinating,” I said, a little too loudly, remembering the hiss of a laser cutting through a shield. “Omni-tool records, please.”

With a shake of my head, I went back to the monitors. I hovered over the search function, working out how long it would take a carrier to get to the satellite from the lake, and set in a new command. I left a thirty-minute window for leeway, just in case.

Terix hovered over my shoulder. “I’ve already checked the satellite feeds.”

“Another pair of eyes won’t hurt. You can use my terminal to access the other pipeline cameras.”

A grunt was my answer- Terix was annoyed I was still in his seat. “Don’t touch anything on my desk, I like it how it is. _Sir._ ”

I sucked my _se’aus_ while I watched; so far, so dull. All the carriers and spaceships were accounted for, but something bothered me enough to watch again. Between 15:54 and 15:57 something flickered in the background like the shutter of my windows back home on the Citadel; the clouds of the surface of Epiteia had moved too fast.

I watched it _again_ , then compared it to a recent day. The atmosphere might be artificial, but it wasn’t a holo; it was clearly shoved in to cover something. Who had the power to manipulate even satellite feeds? I don’t blame Terix for not spotting it; whoever did it was good. I zoomed in to watch it flicker on a loop; here we go again.

I was about to say something to the others but was interrupted by a uniformed bump in my eye line. I looked up to the very amber gaze of Epiteia’s police captain staring down at me. “DI Krios.”

“Captain AD. What can I do for you?”

“We have twenty minutes until the conference. Come.” I blinked, checking the time. Apparently, my prodding of the satellite feeds had swamped the hour.

“The camera feeds of the colony have been tampered with. We’ve found evidence of-”

She looked pained. “Not now,” she said, holding out a hand. “I appreciate that you’re keen, but for now we focus on facing the press. Please tell me everything after.”

I put my hands behind my back as I followed her in silence, a brow raised. As soon as I was seated opposite her desk, she placed a datapad in front of me, hovering by the chair. “No one is allowed to ask anything unrelated to the case,” she said. “I assume this is fine with you?”

If she was talking about my Internal Affairs mess over the Austin case, then, of course, it was more than fine. “No problem at all.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, annoyed by something. “You’re wearing that, are you?”

I looked at my uniform, following her eye line. It was clean, so was my jacket. “Yes? It’s cultural. All drell wear leathers.” It was a lie no one challenged, but my hardsuit could never hold my  _se’aus_ tin properly.

Captain AD huffed, annoyed. A talon somehow managed to find the only patched hole on my shoulder, worrying the fraying buckles. “Fine. Next time something neater, please. The entire Hierarchy is watching our little colony today.”

 _No shit._  “Yes, captain.”

She fiddled with her bangles as she sat down, anxious over something. “What do you think?”

I looked at the datapad; she meant her statement. “Give me a moment.”

The words were simple enough:  _From the date of 30.10.2193, a Missing Person case was made at Epiteia Police and Security station at 14:00 hours by Teus Caeplin. He reported that his son Juvus Caeplin was missing and had not returned home, alongside similar reports of Pliva Duvitus and Vitelia Aberdas._

I frowned, then passed it back. “Read it out to me,” I said. “It’ll help you.”

AD was still nervous. “Right. Yes.” She cleared her throat before speaking. “Yesterday following police investigations the body of the late Juvus Caeplin was identiﬁed; one of the missing children has been found, and we believe it to be homicide. A special team led by DI Krios on behalf of the Council  _and_ the Hierarchy-” oh Gods- right, yes. The reason I’m here-  “-has been set up to investigate this.”

“No mention of the lake?” I said.

AD shook her head, then continued. “We wish to convey our condolences to the family, friends, and classmates of the late Juvus Caeplin and assure them that an intensive investigation is underway to establish those responsible for the homicide and bring them to face the law. We are following evidence that we believe could lead to the eventual arrest and prosecution of his murderer.”

She looked away, quiet now. “Of all the things I assumed I would be in charge of, investigating the brutal death of my daughter’s classmate was not one. I have to explain to her why Juvus won’t be in school anymore.”

I flicked my eyes to her family portrait behind her. Her very human husband with their children between them, one human and one turian. “Anyone spoken to the school yet?”

“I will, later.”

I nodded. “I can come.” Another job to do; so much for sleep tonight. “I also need a warrant to speak to Icina Duvitus,” I said. “She’s in hospital. Possibly a warrant for her guns too. And the other families involved, I know they have weapons registered.”

AD nodded once. “I can come with you to speak to the Duvitus woman after we’re done here. I’m clearance enough.”

Turian due process was terrifying- less tape than C-Sec, but it made me worry about my own damn rights. After all, I was only here as a visiting DI, not as a member of the Hierarchy.

“You don’t have to trouble yourself,” I said. I now had an interview job with a captain in a hospital ward, not at all awkward. No time for informal tea and chats with pillowy asari nurses while I’m there, not now, at least. Ah, not that I would _anyway_ ; Ori would have both my dicks in a vice if she knew.

My new boss had other ideas. “It’s not an issue.” AD fiddled with her bangles again, brow plates pinched in thought. “The statement was fine?”

Other than the curious lack of mention of the lake, I thought it was perfect, and told her so. “Shall we go?” I said, flicking my jacket into shape.

The press conference was held in a room just off from the station and looked like it was a community hall of some sort, shared by the fencing society and veteran meetings. The murder of Juvus Caeplin had brought more than I thought; I recognised the Alliance News Network logo on one camera bot, as well as the Hierarchy’s Unity News.

When the clock hit bang on ten, we walked to the table and sat down. This time AD’s voice did not waver when she read her statement. She paused on:  _we wish to convey our condolences,_  though did not stumble over her nerves as she did in her office.

A camera flashed once and I blinked, irritated at the light. AD looked up from her statement when it was done, daring her audience to respond. “We will only be taking questions related to this case.”

A turian in red stood up straight away before anyone else could, a glowing omni-tool in hand. “Rem Averai,  _Castellus Echo._ According to the Hierarchy’s statistic department, this colony has the lowest crime rates in the system. What’s changed?”

“I’ll pass the discussion to DI Krios,” said AD, nodding to me.

Time to earn my pay, I suppose. “Nothing has changed. This is not a normal case for Epiteia,” I said, answering him with the very thing the entire station had told me since we found Juvus. “This is, however, an _intricate_ case. Juvus Caeplin was a smart, capable boy who many speak of fondly. We'll be examining these associations closely.”

I thought of the families written on the board of the incident room, every face clear in my memories: Icina’s keening cries, her missing husband; Rixar’s stern hospitality, his son framed by monsters of an extranet game.

The press was silent, bright eyes and blinking camera-bots waiting for me to continue. “If anyone watching this has any information that may help us, now is the time to come forward. I'd urge you not to hide anything- because we’ll find out, no matter what.” AD stood up straighter at my words, daring anyone from the press to argue any differently.

“I’ll allow one more,” she said. “You,” she pointed at a turian in green, politely waiting to speak. “Your question?”

Where was Menetina Abicolus? I was expecting at least  _one_ passive aggressive question from her. “Do you have anything you wish to say to the residents of Epiteia, and by proxy the citizens of the Castellus system?”

I glanced at the bland reporter speaking; thank all the Gods for an unimaginative turian media. “A good question. I’d ask them to remember.” I hoped they knew the weight of the word, because I did. “Perhaps they have noticed a member of their family or a neighbour behaving differently in the past weeks or can recall unusual vehicles or activity in the colony. If they have, they should contact the police immediately.” Booted feet and chairs squeaked as bodies shifted to look at each other, a subconscious gesture of suspicion.

“There will be no safe harbour for Juvus's killer,” I said. “I will turn this colony upside down to find them. I will catch whoever did this- make no mistake of that.”

I scanned the room to see every face; new to me, all of them. Were any from Blackwatch, sent to see what I was up to? Where was Abi?

Epiteia’s answer to anything vaguely approaching journalism was missing during the most important news story of her career, and I had no idea why.

“No further questions,” said AD.

Shame that I had several of my own to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably the last chapter of the year, and it's a bit of calm before the storm. I hope everyone has a great Christmas! 
> 
>  
> 
> [Happy Holidays from my grouchy detective and his girlfriend to you and yours.](https://78.media.tumblr.com/4eff5996d5ac4391bf655fc2f9b364bc/tumblr_p0wrjrOuNW1wzm531o1_1280.png)


	18. Off The Record

VICTORY RISE HOSPITAL, DAY 3  
_11:03 am_

When in doubt about a case, the only thing left to do is actual police work.

If I were on the Citadel, nothing would be a problem. I’d pass on several tangles for my C-Sec colleagues to unsnarl, leaving me alone with the job of interviews. Precinct 14 had a reputation for excellence; even Bats T’Lori -a reprehensible asari to the point of repulsiveness-  was a brilliant detective, not that I would ever tell him.

But I was on Epiteia; I was struggling to trust even a basic data search to the officers on my team, unable to do anything without me holding their hands. Not that I could do even that now, trapped as I was in a purring X3M 500 metres in the air.

Captain AD kept on frowning at me in the silence as I pretended to watch the view, annoyed at my reluctance to speak. “I’ve applied for authority to look into your shooting problem,” she said. “They’ll let me know soon. If you think it’s one, to begin with.”

I murmured a  _hmm_  before I spoke. “We can focus on the families first,” I said. “The evidence points to them; their DNA was at the scene.”

“Procedure must be followed, yes.”

At least her vehicle was nice; I don’t get much chance to experience the roomier officer carriers. Captains always had the best skycars, even if all they did was ferry themselves to and from meetings about public perception and fundraisers.

Bailey would scalp my fins if he knew I thought it, but he didn’t have suspects in the back seat holding cell often-

_-fuck, Krios! She’s doing it,’ said Bats. ‘Ma’am, defacing C-Sec property will be added to your charges; please stop pissing in our skycar-_

“Anything about Icina Duvitus you find suspicious?” AD asked me, and I breathed in deeply to get rid of the memory of stale urine.

We both could see the glass and steel of the hospital on the horizon. “She’s fragile,” I said. “Been broken enough to the point of hospitalisation. The nurse wouldn’t tell me what for.”

“They’ll tell me.” I tried not to flinch as she gripped the haptic interface a little too tight in her talons. Hierarchy law was terrifying in the application of authority, and I say this as a C-Sec detective.

AD parked the skycar in the designated area with a pointed look at me, paying the fee with a wave of her omni-tool. “You can lead,” she said. “It’s your case.”

There really is nothing like having your boss watch you work.  “Fine by me,” I said.

The same asari was at the nursing station when we reached the ward, watching us go through the decontamination unit with cold eyes. “Oh, you brought a friend,” she said. “A fancy one too.”

“We’re here about Mrs. Duvitus. Sorry you couldn’t get rid of me,” I replied, smiling.

AD had no time for my pleasantries. “Under the Police and Security act of 2165, it is within my authority as captain to interview a suspect. No warrant is needed.”

Nurse Anraes Shinis flitted her gaze between us both, jaw tight. “I’m aware. But I will ask her first, as is _her_ right. Mrs. Duvitus has just had her medication- I’m not sure what use she’ll be.”

We were left alone, but AD’s bald declaration of our power made me nervous. Our presence alone had annoyed Anraes, but AD’s words pissed her off; you don’t annoy medical staff, not if you can help it.

“Is she awake?” I asked. Anraes came back to us with an empty syringe in her hands; I eyed it very carefully.

“Yes. We moved her to a private room. I figured you would return, less disruption for the patients. I’d ask you not to stress her out, please. She’s very sick.”

“With what?” AD narrowed her eyes, and I prayed to whatever God was listening that she remained civil.

Anraes threw the syringe away a little too firmly into a biohazard unit.  “Not at liberty to tell you. That you  _do_ need a warrant for, captain- as you should know.”

We were escorted to a too hot room with barely any light, but Icina was awake and lucid enough to recognise us. I decided to lead with questions about her own daughter; no accusations of murder, not yet.

“Hello, Mrs. Duvitus. Do you remember me?” Her eyes fluttered shut, and the nurse checked something on her omni-tool, eyes on her patient.

“The detective from the Citadel,” she said, coughing slightly. “Of course I do.”

“I’m here about Pliva. We found her friend’s body yesterday.  I’m sorry to have to tell you, but it is murder.” Her muffled keen was my answer; Icina already knew.

“Take it easy,” Shinis told her, glaring at me. “You don’t have to answer him. You have a right to a legal representative while you’re here. The hospital can provide one, you know.”

AD remained silent beside me, though her narrowed eyes at the words _legal representative_ spoke volumes. “When was the last time you saw Pliva,the day she went missing?” I asked, ignoring Nurse Shinis and her scowling protest.

“At noon. She was with the Aberdas girl and the little boy down the road. I saw them and thought they were sweet, they were all holding hands-

_-Castis Vakarian stared at his report. ‘I wonder if there’s even a point to get you to recount the incident of the shooting again. All your interviews read remarkably similar, word for word. Eidetic memory seems a gift-_

“Do you know what I find fascinating?” I asked. Icina shifted in her bed to look away, eyes listless still. “When I talk to people about what they saw, even my own kind, the story changes. It happens even when they have done nothing wrong.”

It was always my job to chip away and see what would break, to see if a witness said something differently. "But this, Mrs. Duvitus -this is what I find so interesting- this is the fourth time the Epiteia police have interviewed you, and each time your story remains the same- word for word."

AD did not move from her position of the door, the weak light framing her face half in shadow. “Almost like a script,” she said. “That is interesting, you’re right.”

Icina still did not look at me murmuring something I couldn’t catch, but Shinis did. “It’s the drugs,” she said. “The painkillers are making her woozy. The doctor is coming.” She glanced at us both, still annoyed we were here. “I called him.”

“Of course,” said Captain AD. “But this is still our jurisdiction.”

A knock at the door and the doctor let himself in, as if on cue. He was a handsome man for a turian; he had a casual swagger the casting directors of _Blue’s Anatomy_ would cream themselves over if they had the chance to get it on the vids.

“Captain Acilitis-Dixon,” he said, a polite smile on his face. He had a lovely speaking voice too, the kind his species were famous for; even I was one step away from a dreamy sigh. “Lovely to see you again.”

AD was not so easily impressed by the smoulder. “Dr. Calatis. What are the chances?”

“Favourably high, since I work here.” He looked at me and smiled, nodding once. “And you must be the drell detective Nurse Shinis told me so much about. If both of you would step out of the room, I need a moment with my patient.”

I knew someone pushing their authority when I saw it, and so did Captain AD. “Of course,” she said. “I do hope you recognise we’re in the middle of a murder investigation. Of a six-year-old boy.”

“Please step outside,” he said, ignoring her. “And then we can do our jobs.”

There was nothing to do but sit and wait in the hallway while our suspect exercised her patient rights. I checked my omni-tool to see a missed call from Bailey and winced, annoyed. “Problem?” said AD, noticing my grimace.

“Have to touch in with my superiors back on the Citadel, they might have something for the case.” It was a might; Bailey was fond of under the table dealings and keeping things out of due process. There was nothing I could do with anything given, even if it pointed me in the right direction.

Both Dr. Calatis and Nurse Shinis had left the private room heads high, the lights dimmed behind them; it was not a good sign. “Well?” said AD, annoyed. “We’re not finished.”

Calatis looked her over before speaking, leaning against the door to bar our way. “I understand the importance of your investigation, but Mrs. Duvitus is sick. Any stress is an acute strain on her health. I cannot stress enough how sick she is.”

AD blinked once, a hand on her pregnant stomach. “We need her to answer some questions. My presence here as captain and commander of Epiteia’s Police and Security is procedure enough. There is no need for a warrant.”

There was a pause as he looked at her, voice softer now as he crossed his arms. “Then you think very carefully what kind of police you want here, Camicia,” he said. He called her by her first name; by turian standards, that meant something. “You’re a good person. Strong-arming your way around a hospital is not done, no matter how important you think this is.”

“Interesting,” AD said, smiling. “I was not aware that one dinner at a charity gala made us intimate enough for unsolicited advice. I’ll take it into consideration, don’t worry.”

“This is how you want to handle yourself?” Doctor Vix stared at the ceiling, visibly angry. “Fine. This is how we do things. Under the Health & Safety act of 2172, under the authority vested in me when I swore an oath to the Spirits of Recovery themselves, it is in my medical opinion that Icina Duvitus is not of sound mind or body to answer any of your questions.”

Ah, shit.  _Never_ push a medical professional. “Perhaps we could-” I started, but was interrupted.

“No can do.” An orange omni-tool flashed on his arm; a form was being filled in on the spot. “There, that should cover it. Come back tomorrow.”

Only a turian could wield bureaucracy like a weapon. I got a taste of it with C-Sec red tape, but this was the next level- this was a fucking standoff. “She seemed lucid to me,” AD replied, ignoring the buzz of her own ‘tool. “Are you sure?”

Dr. Calatis ignored her disagreement. “If you have a problem with this, you will need the opinion of two registered and licensed doctors approved by the Hierarchical Medical Board before this goes any further. Now, unless you have an order from the Primarch or the Council themselves, you and your -sorry, detective, I forgot your name-”

“I never gave it. DI Krios, C-Sec,” I said, forcing politeness into my tone. “Is any of this necessary? Mrs. Duvitus herself has a child missing, of which our investigation is part of. Our questions are here to help us find Pliva.”

“She’s in no fit state to give a sound opinion on anything.” Calatis spat the words back, even if he was still smiling. ”Neither of you will be asking questions to a patient of mine that is currently incapable of answering them, not while I remain standing. And I will happily drag the case to the board myself if I have to, and I’ll do it again and again if you keep on pushing.”

It was my turn to stare at the ceiling and calm my temper. “No one is accusing Mrs. Duvitus of anything. We merely wish to know why her DNA was found at the murder scene of Juvus Caeplin. Any information she gives us could help us find her missing daughter and that of the other missing child.”

“All I can tell you is what’s in front of me,” he replied, quiet and firm. “That woman is sick and needs rest to recover. You can ask your questions when her health improves.”

I looked at AD; she was one more refusal away from exploding. “Kidnappings are time sensitive, and her daughter remains missing,” I said. “I cannot press the importance of not wasting all our efforts here. Juvus is dead, and we need to know why, doctor. We can see what’s in front of us too. And it’s all connected.”

Whether you like it or not, I thought. Instead, I let AD talk. “None of this is necessary if she gives her permission for an interview,” she said, mandibles tight against her jaw. “It’s within our jurisdiction to ask.”

Calatis murmured his disagreement. “I can physically detain her under the 21b Mental Health Order as a public threat if I have to. She is under no fit shape for anything; stress is a killer, Captain.”

“Now you’re going too far,” she said, walking up to him. “A threat? To who exactly, herself?”

“Ha, see? You’re learning,” he said, smiling at her again. “Knew you'd see it my way eventually.”

“Five minutes,” I said before Captain AD gave birth then and there in her rage. “That’s all I need.  Please, her daughter is missing still.”

A pointed finger wavered at me, and he looked my way again. “Not the Captain,”  he said, reply steeped in pettiness. “Perhaps only you, DI Krios. This is only an  _if_ , of course.  _If_  she consents, and  _if_  her blood pressure reading is normal. I will check.”

For once I was the politer one. “Thank you, doctor,” I replied, hands clasped in front of me. “It would help us out so much.”

We waited until he came out again, AD quietly grinding her teeth within her mandibles. “You contact your Citadel people,” she said. “You get us our permission to get on with it. I’ll ask my superiors directly.”

I was no Spectre, as everyone and their mother had made abundantly clear since I picked up this case. “Don’t expect much.”

It was already midday, and it felt like I had done nothing. While I waited for Dr. Calatis again, I sent an email over to both Sully and Terix to pick up the suspect’s guns; all families involved had something registered- they were turian, after all.

 _Anything else? I can still look for the Lost Legion of Invictus- I mean, there’s time_ , came the surly response from Officer Terix; I got a ‘smiley face’ and an “on it” from Sully. Both their replies annoyed me.

Calatis came back as I typed back my response, eyes on his own omni-tool. “You get two minutes. And I stay in the room,” he said. “The second I see any signs of stress, I’m dragging you out by the collar myself. I’m timing you.”

AD watched me go, jaw tight. Icina was still the same as she was when I saw her last, and fluttered open her eyes when she heard me come in.

“Thank you for this,” I told her. “How are you, Icina?”

“Better soon,” she said, murmuring. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re not. I’m going to ask you some questions now, and if they’re too upsetting, we can stop. Okay? It’s about Pliva, Lia, and Juvus.” She mumbled something my translator couldn’t catch. “Excuse me?”

I leaned in close to hear. “It’s a good name,” she said. “I called her Pliva. I always wanted a little girl called Pliva.”

“It’s a good name,” I said. “I have a warrant to pick up your weapons, it’s just a formality to clear them from the case. I am doing everything in my power to find your girl.”

“I want you to.” A weak taloned hand gripped my forearm; I allowed the intrusion of my personal space and leaned in further, my frills almost on her mouth plates. “I’m so tired.”

“I think we can cut this off now,” said Calatis, eyes on her blood pressure monitor from his datapad. “Enough.”

I refused. “Why did you name her Pliva? Does it mean anything to you, Mrs. Duvitus?”

“It’s not her first name.” Her eyes blinked once, her mouth opening closing. “I don’t- I’m not-”

The beep of a heart rate monitor made me look away, and a hand was put on my shoulder. “Out. Now.”

Pliva Duvitus, her missing daughter. Was it not her real name? Or rather, not her original name. Pliva was-

_-doesn’t make my mother and father any less real. I won’t take his name or his fucking legacy. I’m a Lee, not a Lawson,’ she said. I pulled her closer, her hair stuck to my frill again. ‘Krios is my mother’s name,’ I repli-_

-adopted. They were all adopted through the same orphanage. Their common ground, connecting them all. All those children had homes, but no blood relation to their parents; it was not an issue of course. But on a case like this, I had to check again, even if Adaraka said he already had.

I waited until we were back in AD’s plush skycar before I spoke again. “What do you know about the orphanage?”

“What?” My question had surprised her enough to loosen her death grip of the controls, one hand curled over her belly out of instinct. The gesture was subconscious, and AD patted her protected bump once before returning to her driving.

“Two Trees I believe it’s called.”

“I’m aware. My daughter came from there,” she replied. “I’ve had no problems, the couple who run it are good people. My husband and I help out with fundraisers yearly; the Primarch even contributes a sizable amount himself. What did that Duvitus woman say?”

It was information I had to navigate around carefully; the orphanage was personal to her, like most of the fucking case was to everyone here. “Nothing much- just rambles. She wants her daughter back.”

AD was no fool. “But?” she prompted, setting the skycar to autopilot. “She said something to make you question the place.”

“Of a sort,” I replied. “Is it common to change the name of a child when they’re adopted from there?”

She exhaled before speaking. “Family name is common- Caetia is an Acilitis-Dixon. First names, no. But it happens, of course.” AD knew what I wanted before I could ask, and narrowed her eyes at me. “If you must reopen the interviews there, then I suppose I’ll allow it. But I’ll be present this time- I know them better than Detective Adaraka would. He already interviewed them yesterday, yes? Are you sure you want to do this again?”

I was awake just enough to bite my tongue. I was DI for the case, but AD was still my boss. “Yes, captain.”

Galnius was the only one left in the station when we got back. “Terix went out for a 602,” he said. A break in wouldn’t be news for anyone back on Zakera, but here it was. “Is it related, do you think?”

They both looked at me as if I knew the answer. “It could be,” I replied, though very much doubted it. “Are 602s common here?”

_-Adaraka snorted, amused by my question. ‘We’re expected to find every lost glove and deal with all the stupid neighbourhood watch crap. Though with the increase of people, we’re getting more 601s and 602s-_

“Not really,” answered Galnius. “A few in the past year, but not what you’d expect, sir.”

AD wandered off without a word, eyes on a datapad.  “I’ll call Terix. Did he at least come back with the weapons first?” I said.

“He’s picking them up, don’t worry.”

At least someone was doing their job. “Anything on Kaeruns Abtion’s omni-tool?”

“Not much. I can tell you his porn habits if you’d like.” I shrugged; pornography only told you so much about a suspect, no matter what you’ve been led to believe. “He liked rather robust looking male soldiers if his subscription to  _Might of the Hierarchy_ is anything go by.”

“A turian with a military fetish? There’s a shocker.”

Galnius chuckled. “Fairly tame by today’s standards, to be frank. But Mr. Abtion was an old man.”

It was a whole lot of nothing. “Adaraka back yet? We have interviews.”

“No, sir. He said-” Galnius paused, then stood up straighter. AD was back in the room.

“You and I are going to the school,” she said. “I just called them, we’re free to go in. The principal suggested we go before their afternoon play session.”

“Excuse me?” I was aware of how pissy I sounded. “I have to talk to the families first,” I said, forcing the cold edge from my tone. “It’s important.” Especially since it gave them time to hide evidence and come up with excuses.

“Terix and Sully are gathering the weapons, it’s enough for now. The press conference has poked the klixen nest; I have a duty of care as captain and commander here to make sure the right information gets out.”

Gods save me from colonies and their inbred sense of community. “At least give me a moment to call my superior back on the Citadel,” I said.

“You can have it.”

“I’ll need privacy,” I said. I had no choice in the matter; politics with captains were hard to navigate, especially when they insisted on playing detective.

AD gave me the same room as my “just a chat” with Internal Affairs, and I pushed aside the memories to return Bailey’s call.

“Krios,” he answered, this time on holo. “ Good news, I got you your contact. This is strictly off the record, obviously. Sending the details over now.” I nodded once and looked away.  So much for due process. “You alright, kid? I talked to your girl yesterday.”

There was always a familiarity I shared Bailey. We were friends of a sort, but he was my mentor first; that he had interfered with my personal life chafed. “What she say?”

He chuckled. “Enough to be pissed at you. If you want some advice-”  I didn’t, but here it was anyway- “talk to her when she asks about your day. I know how it is, but you can bullshit some of it. Don’t have to tell her about everything, just don’t tell her nothing. They don’t like it when you do, trust me. She’s a good woman, Krios. Too good for you.”

“Yeah yeah,” I mumbled. “So you all keep on telling me.”

Bailey grinned at me. The quality of the line was good today, at least. I could see his teeth. “Call my guy. Get back here soon, Kolyat. You got to the end of the week. Bailey out.”

The number he had given me for Dexin Remilius was unlisted, but I recognised part of the omni-tool as Palaven space.

“Sorry,” I said when a bleary-eyed turian answered. “Is it late there? Are you Dexin?”

The line was worse than Bailey’s, but I could see him reach for a beer. “That’s me. I was told to expect a drell from C-Sec. You must be it.”

I forced a polite smile on my face before I spoke. “I am. What can you tell me about Epiteia?”

He blinked. “Castellus space, used to be a resort, something about interspecies living. Your guy is from there.”

The reply was not what I expected. “I’ll rephrase. What can you tell me about Blackwatch’s interest in the place?”

“I don’t-” he looked perplexed. “I was expecting questions about an old member of the 235th Legion- a Kaeruns Abtion. He lived in Epiteia, yes?”

_Bathtub, rifle, legion, missing._

So much for Bailey’s contacts in Blackwatch. “Correct. But I’ve noticed an increase of Blackwatch, ah, activity in the area. I was wondering if the two are connected.”

Dexin snorted. “Everyone always thinks they know what Blackwatch looks like. Probably some old soldier in their old Legion uniform, I wouldn’t be so sure.”

I had to bite the inside of my cheek before I replied, angry at the dismissal. “I know Special Forces when I see it.”

The look he gave was me was an unvoiced  _sure you do_. “Look, I only have clearance to Level 6. If I go back and access the databanks, it’s going to look suspicious. This is not worth the black mark to my career, favour or no. Now, do you want this info I have on the caller ID or not?”

“That would be helpful, thank you.” I gripped my hands behind my back, annoyed.

“Your man called Vovus Felnis before he died,” he said. “He’s Blackwatch, obviously- only an engineer. It’s all I can get you; I can tell you they were in the same Legion, though. Worked a patrol together for five years.” He spoke over me before I could reply. “This is a burner-tool,” he said. “If you try to call me back, you’ll get nothing. Please don’t contact me again.”

The information wasn’t exactly helpful; it had to be kept off the case, thanks to the underhanded nature of it, but at least I could contact this Vovus Felnis under the pretence of contacting Abtion’s old Legion.

I still had to face Captain AD before I could do anything else, and we made our way to the school, this time in separate vehicles. The security there was lax enough for the pair of us to stroll in but tight enough to be stopped at the main doors.

Turian school children did everything together at this age; education and physical training were a given, but so was cleaning the classroom and preparing their lunch. There was a reason most I knew were reluctant to move their children from one place, and it was schools like this.

It was quite common for my turian C-Sec colleagues to keep their families off the Citadel; when I learnt a captain had three children on a colony during the rebuilding, I understood. The Wards were no place for kids, fractured as they were with looting and repairs.

But he still kept them ‘home’ even when security improved, tucked away safe in a turian community. I found the work/life separation a little odd, but I wasn’t born into a Hierarchy; rich coming from a drell, I suppose. We were told where to sit and what to do from the Compact, but wasn’t it an honour?

As soon as we explained our presence, we were seated outside the principal's office waiting-

_-blood pooled onto my shirt from a split lip. They had mocked my father, they said it was my fault Mother had died. I clenched my fists, knowing Sere Grisa would be ‘disappointed’ in me again. I got them good-_

We were escorted by the Principal themselves to Juvus Caeplin’s class. I let AD lead the conversation, talking about PTA meetings and assemblies. I would be the one to explain to the children what happened to their friend. The captain might be chafing my scales with her insistence on being here, but I’d spare her the pain of that.

“This is Teacher Ramarix,” said AD, introducing me outside the classroom. “My Caetia cannot stop talking about you.”

Ramarix chuckled his answer. “She’s a good girl is your Caeti. A very caring child.”

“That’s lovely to hear. But that’s not why I’m here,” she replied.

“It’s a terrible business,” he said, uncomfortable with AD’s deft dispensing of the small talk. “That poor boy.”

“There was a press conference.” AD tugged the fabric of her tunic, nodding once at her anxious daughter watching us through the window. “I thought it best to talk to Juvus’s class directly before the rumours start.”

I recognised one of the little boys in the room, at least. Galnius’s nephew, the one who gave me free vegetables and showed me his toys when I went out on my last run two days ago. I waved at him to his delight, happy that the interesting stranger knew who he was.

Ramarix opened the door at my elbow. “They’re a good bunch,” he said. “We can go in, you come at the right time. No important lessons to interrupt now.”

“I’m sorry we’re putting them through this.” Even on the Lower Wards where death was a constant companion to duct rats and refugees alike, children were still sheltered as much we could afford them.

“I’ll do what I can to limit the damage.” Ramarix looked at his own hands, sad. I knew how important mentors were to turians; the relationship sunk to such an intrinsic, personal level that other species had troubles understanding, baffled by the depth.

Because if you said ‘ _you never forget your first_ ’ to a turian, they’re going to automatically think -with a large heap of nostalgia their blurry memories allowed- of their first teacher.

I nodded once, watching the children with him. I knew this Ramarix would always be in their memories for as long as they lived, important enough to still be invited to weddings and ceremonies and graduations. “We’ll get them,” replied AD. “But I thought it might be best to explain to the children before they hear something at the school gates.”

“Sensible, yes.” Ramarix picked up a datapad, looking us over. “Have you permission from the Caeplin’s to talk? They’re a quiet people, they might not like the fuss.”

AD flicked her eyes at me. There was no need for a warrant; there were no healthcare laws in our way this time. “I’d rather we control what the children hear first. It’s a kindness for all involved.”

I wandered off to let them talk about plans for an assembly, curious by the list of names on the wall: Abicolus caught my eye-

_-AD clasped her hands before looking at me, and I knew I was being measured by whatever level of worth she valued. ‘I heard you had trouble with our press outside the station,’ she said, after a beat. ‘I’ll speak to Abi tomorrow, our children go to the same school-_

Her daughter. I looked at the class, checking to see if she was here, but could only see  an empty space where she would be sitting. Not only Abi was missing in action, but her daughter was too.

AD was still in conversation with the teacher, Caetia Acilits-Dixon now latched onto her leg. I could see Kae Galnius wiggle in his seat when I looked at his table, desperate for me to say hello.

“May I sit here?” I said to him, looking at the vacant, child-sized seat to his right.

“Who are you?” I was still a stranger, but at least one of the other children refused to be shy. The little girl asking me looked me over with sharp eyes, trying to work out who I was.

“I’m DI Kolyat Krios.” I showed her my badge, amused at the tone. “And who are all of you?”

She was a forthright thing still and poked my holo-ID with her stylus. “That’s you.” The answer was apparently good enough, but I could see she was still trying to work me out- future cop in the making, obviously. “Do you work with Caetia’s mom?”

“I do.”

“You’re sitting in  _his_ seat,” said Kae, shy. “My friend sits there. But he’s missing.”

I moved the tiny stool closer to him; I was in the place of Juvus Caeplin. “I don’t think he would mind, do you?”

“There’s nowhere else to sit,” said the forthright little girl next to him. “Are you here to do some drawing? I’m Leta. That’s Tex, Kae, and Sivia.”

“Depends. What are you all drawing?” I asked. Kae’s image seemed suitably heroic; a male turian in lurid armour and a rifle in each hand, and what appeared to be three legs. I hoped that was a leg. Otherwise, the following conversation was going to be awkward.

“It’s for the Primarch,” he said. “He’s coming to see us next week. He has a cool sword. And three guns.”

“That’s a sword? Oh, good.” I realised all of them were drawing -or writing- some sort of note to the System’s Primarch; the news said-

_-Abi droned on, a scarily perky newscaster voice that was light years away from what I had heard from her today. ‘Primarch Trenigius looks to open the Cultural Exchange Centre himself here on Epiteia-_

Where was Abi again? I should chase that up, but I had so much to do; if I had my regular C-Sec squad here we would have this done by the end of the day, and still work a couple of other cases on top.

I resisted the urge to sigh; I must be very desperate if I wanted Bateseda T’Lori here. “Do all drell have swords?” he asked, pulling me from my thoughts. “Like Kane Laconic.”

He remembered our meeting but forgot the conversation. “No, not many. I don’t use one,” I said, telling him again. He looked so disappointed that I gave in and told the truth. “I do have one on my wall, though. Belonged to my father. It’s very sharp, I have to be careful with it.”

“Cool.” Several pairs of wide-eyed children looked at me, rapt in agreement. Swords were apparently fascinating to them, but they were turian; weapons were handled at an earlier age than most, and fencing was still a popular sport.

“What did your dad do in the war?” he asked, colouring in the Primarch’s guns with a lurid purple. I content myself with drawing an awful version of Fish- not that the turian children would know what the drawing was meant to be.

“He’s old,” said Leta, rolling her eyes. “He was in the war.”

_-stay back,’ I said, blood pouring down my arm. The crowd panicked, fuelled by a desperation only hunger could cause. ‘This ration depot is under C-Sec protection. Stay back, or we’ll shoot-_

I paused my colouring, refusing to let the memory take me. “I was on the Citadel helping people.”

The answer was good enough for them. We worked in silence for a moment, but I could see my audience was desperate to ask more questions. “Are you here about Juvus?”

“I am,” I said. “There’s going to be a special assembly before your play break. I’ll be speaking with your class.”

They looked at each other, aware it was a big subject. “Is he okay?” asked one, fiddling with her talons.

“DI Krios!” Captain AD called from the room, and I stood as fast as I could without disturbing the table. I assumed she used the exact tone on her children when they had their hand in the snack jar.

“It’s time,” said Ramarix, raising his voice so the children could hear him. “All of you put down your things and sit in your circle. DI Krios and Captain AD are going to talk to us about something.”

The moved as slowly as I expected, and it took them awhile to settle down. Once they were all looking at us, I began. “I have some very sad news to tell you,” I said. “I know you’ve all been looking for your friend, and have been helping the police with your search parties. But we found him dead yesterday. We’re still trying to find out what happened.”

They all looked at each other, unsure how to act. “Where was he?” asked Kae, talons in his tunic. “Was he hiding?”

“We found him in the lake,” I replied. I knew most turians were aquaphobic to some degree, and I hoped I would not give them the burden of nightmares from the truth.

“Was he trying to swim? Wei can swim, but he’s human,” said Caetia. Captain AD looked at her daughter for speaking out of turn and the little girl shrunk back into her seat.

_-Laeta Caeplin shook her head, her hands tightly bound with her husband's. “I don’t understand. Why the lake? Did he drown-_

“Very occasionally bad things happen to good people. I’m here in Epiteia on behalf of the Council to find out what happened.”

The teacher flared his mandibles; I had told the truth in plain words. Of course it was blunt, but I had to be; children deserved the truth too. “Some of you may be feeling shocked at this news, some of you might be frightened,” I said.  “Some of you might even feel nothing at all. All of these feelings are okay.”

“He was our friend,” said Teacher Ramarix, clearing his throat. “We will miss him.”

The children looked at each other, unsure what to do; they were waiting for the adults to allow them to grieve. “When you go to your play time after this, you can spend some time thinking about what I have just told you. Teacher Ramarix will try to answer any questions that you might have.”

It was unfair for me to dump it on their teacher, but I had too much to do; I could not linger in a school to answer questions. “I’m always here for you,” he said, quiet and sad. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Some of the children keened now, finally understanding. AD could no longer play the reserved captain and went to them, rank forgotten, stooping as low as her pregnancy would allow. “Juvus wouldn’t want you upset,” she said. Her own daughter stuck to her legs immediately, face pressed into her mother.  

“The school will hold a special assembly next week for Juvus when we can spend more time thinking about him, and honor his name with the Spirits,” said Ramarix. He was surrounded by most of his class, a circle of children by his feet in need of comfort.

A tiny hand tugged my jacket. Perhaps he knew I was AD’s “friend,” perhaps his Uncle Galnius had mentioned me once, but Kae clung to my shoulder when I bent down to his level, forehead tucked into my frill. “It’s okay,” I told him, rubbing his back. ”I’m sorry this happened to you.”

I truly was. Once the grief had spread and settled like snow in the classroom, I let him go. “He might be gone,” AD said, after clearing her throat. Her arms were full of children still, her daughter curled around her. “But we won’t forget Juvus, will we?”

Slowly the children made their way back to their spots on the floor, but the explosion of emotion tempered the atmosphere to something solemn. I was back to my position of stranger breaking bad news, hands behind my back. “I’m sure someone has ideas on how we can remember him,” I told the class. “You look a smart bunch.”

A few of them were desperate to talk. Drell cupped their hands, humans raised an open palm. Some gestures could be universally translated, but even my stone cold heart thawed a centimetre at the sight of several turian tots anxiously tapping their chins so they could speak out of turn, even if grief clung to them still.

Yes, Geria,” said Teacher Ramarix. He tried to keep his weariness out of his voice. Geria had been the most desperate to speak ever since I called them smart, and beamed in relief that she was the first to do so.

“We could do tags for the Spirit stone,” she said. “I did it when Auntie Vee died.”

Kae spoke next, talons worrying his tunic still. “Or drawings. We could draw something.” That boy apparently loved his scribbling, and I wondered how many cool swords and purple guns he’d give his friend in memory; a gruesome thought, considering.

“Or fried louza,” said another. “My dad makes me fried louza when I’m sad.”

“Since when did you all have permission to speak?” Ramarix raised his voice and his height, and the children settled back down into their circle, talons tapping chins once more.

I cleared my throat, and several pairs of small, tiny turian eyes were focused on me again. “You can make a memory box,” I told them. “And put something in that reminds you of Juvus.”

“He was good at math,” said Kae, fidgeting in his seat. “And clawball. Maybe a clawball with really difficult sums on it? Like, up to a hundred.”

“Kae Galnius,” warned his teacher. “Permission. First.”

It was now the afternoon; AD and I left the children with their ideas and went our separate ways back to the station. I spent the journey planning the interviews in my head; I would question the Caeplin’s last, and hope the Aberdas clan were around.

Adaraka had so far refused my emails asking where he was, but was somehow outside the station when I flew over, acting like nothing had happened.

Just the sight of him strolling around made my blood boil; the man was  _sauntering_. “Where the fuck have you been?”I yelled the words.

The tone was sharp enough for him to hold his hands out, a lost act of contrition. “I know, I’m-”

“Don’t start,” I said, jabbing his chest with a finger. “We are up to our fucking fins in shit. You and I both know this is a time-sensitive case. I told you, what? Can you remember, or do I have to hold your hand through that too?”

“Come back after the conference,” he said. I could see that Adaraka was as tired as I was, but I did not care. “But something came up, it was importan-”

“So you said, I read your mail. But I don’t care. I gave you an order.” He was turian- he understood what I meant. “This might be your beat, but it’s my case. I had to use Captain AD as a partner. All fucking morning. She had _ideas_ , Adaraka. She made me do them.”

I let the ramifications of that sink in. He was a fellow detective, even if I was lead; no one should have to work with their captain over their shoulder. “If you would listen to me, you’d-”

“No. Right now the only thing you’re doing is what you’re told from now on. I don’t care.”

There was a fire in his eyes, his hands balled into fists; I could see he was close to using them, too. “You got a problem with my work?”

If he took a swing at me and I decided to report it, he would be reassigned. This was a high tension, high profile case; everyone involved was fraught with stress and close to snapping. “When you don’t follow my orders, yes. What is it about you Epiteian turians, exactly? What is so hard for you to understand about the jobs I give you?”

“We’re special. Didn’t you read the pamphlets?” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “But I found something out. The Blackwatch guy, the one you saw-”

“We have other work to do, the families are the main suspects- you know this. We can chase Blackwatch spooks after we’ve gone through procedure.”

I rubbed my hands over my face, in desperate need of a run. The horizon of the colony dipped in the road, the pair of us stuck in the middle of it all. I could pick up my feet and sprint, run away from my problems; keep on going past the ration store were I was shot at towards the space dock, leaving endless turian pettiness behind me.

“But what if it’s because of Blackwatch spooks, to begin with?” Adaraka poked away at a hole I already knew was there. “What if they meddled? Think about it, who has the power to blackout satellite feeds?”

His words made me look up; Adaraka had paid attention enough to read the reports from this morning, but somehow didn’t get back to me when I asked. “We go over the evidence we have at hand first.” If he found something that trumped what we had, I wasn’t going to turn it away- but it still fucked up procedure. “Do you actually have anything solid?”

Adaraka looked frustrated. “Not exactly, but-”

Of course he had nothing. “Then excuse me while I continue to strip the scale from your hide. This fucking case will end me, Arashu fuck me sideways.”

 _Home._ I wanted to go home. Back to my Citadel, to competent detectives and my Oriana. Back to Fish and dry, warm apartments. Back to-

“If you listen to what I found, maybe you’d see what I mean,” he said, interrupting a memory of my longing. “Come on, Krios- hear me out.”

I was right. The moment I touched down into Epiteia, I knew it would be my punishment. It was not the “Hiding Place” from Internal Affairs as Bailey wanted it to be.

“Your ineptitude at following orders has put me back half a day,” I said. “I shouldn’t have to do everything; I need the competency of basic fucking policing from my officers, meaning you don’t run off on a fucking whim. It’s not done, Adaraka. You know this.”

“Yeah? You going to talk down to me, Detective Asshole?” His hands were back into fists again. “I can do my job just fine.”

“No, you can’t. Because the first sign of trouble in paradise and this station falls to pieces.” I realised by the vibration of own chest I was shouting again, my throat frills puffed out in anger. “None of you can find your ass without a Gods-damned map. I get this is a small community, but do your fucking jobs. That’s all I ask.”

“You think you’re the only one who is pissed?” he said, shoving my shoulder.  

It took everything I have not to push back, looking down the road again. We were shouting on the main street, easy entertainment for the passersby; impromptu theatre was banned on the Citadel. I’m sure turians felt the same way.

One deep breath and I pushed my anger away, staring at the rings of Iritum in the skyline. “Of course not,” I replied. No one would be thumping anyone today, not if I could help it.

“You act like we should all roll over for you, like you know best.”

That’s exactly what I thought, considering their competency levels. Instead, I jerked my head towards the station’s garage, tucked out of sight; if we were going to continue with this, we could do it in the sanctuary of the station. “I understand your frustration-”

“No. You don’t.” The words were pure venom. In the quiet hum of the garage they resonated, loud and clear. “I’m stuck on this damn rock just as you are. I put in my transfer months ago; what’s the point of staying? There’s nothing here for me-

_-she was human, my Evangeline,’ he said, eyes sad. ‘Guess we understand each other a little-_

His errant girlfriend had left him here to rot; young detectives don’t want peaceful garden colonies at the start of their career, not if they can help it.

I pushed away a memory of my Ori before she threatened to take over my thoughts again, like she always did. “You still have a job to do,” I told him, wondering if Captain AD knew the station’s golden boy had enough of lakes and interspecies harmony.  

The laughter that followed sounded hollow and tinny. “I know. There’s always a job to do. Story of my life there, don’t worry. Hear it loud and clear.”

Some machine in the garage whirred itself awake by the workstation, and I listened to it click before I spoke. “You going to follow orders now?” There was nothing much else to say. I had soundly bollocked him, but I still had yet to hear an apology.

“Yes, sir,” he said. Sir. The first time he had called me anything vaguely respectful; Adaraka called me detective or Krios, never ‘sir’ or ‘DI’ as he should.

“DI Krios is fine,” I told him, moving my head side to side until something popped. “You still want to take a swing at me? Isn’t this how turians handle aggression, on the sparring mat?” I didn’t really want to pound the idiot; it was more a stab at humour than anything else.

Adaraka chuckled- at least my awkward joke landed. “How do drell duke it out, anyway?”

“With politeness, I suppose. It’s all very passive-aggressive- carefully worded insults to your mother, that sort of thing.”

A genuine bellow of laughter then. “Oh, there’s nothing polite about you, Krios. I think I’m safe.”

It was nothing I hadn’t heard before and I grinned at him. “I’m a bad drell.”

“And I’m a terrible turian. Or so I’ve been told.”

“The very best of our species, then. Model of our people.”  

“That’s me- the Might of Hierarchy.”

He sighed then, tension leaving him now that I was less inclined to shout at him. “Something is not right about this case, though,” Adaraka said, voice soft. “Someone above us is pulling strings somewhere. I don’t have much proof yet, but I’ll get it.”

I frowned, curious now. “What was so big it made you to go off and refuse my orders, and ignore my calls?”

There was a thrum of anxiety before he spoke, just there in the undercurrent of his subvocals. “The guy you isolated on the video feed, the one you saw before you were shot at two nights ago? I think I know where he’s staying. Scraff says he asked for a fake ID and turned up in an unmarked skycar. He gave me an address.”

I rubbed my chin. “Right, Scraff. Your mystery informant. You realise this is not enough to abandon my work for, yes?”

“But there’s something about this that’s not right.”

“I agree,” I told him. He startled; he was expecting another refusal. “It’s not enough for me to abandon the evidence we found; we don’t run off on a whim. Let’s work our way through the families first, Adaraka. And then we can go off and chase Blackwatch ghosts.”

“And get shot at again? And have them delete satellite feeds? How much is not enough, Krios?”

I touched the centre scales of my forehead, annoyed. The ‘shield of Arashu,’ we called it. The kiss She placed on our heads when we were brought into this world, Her mark of creation- and the place my headaches always started.

“So we check it out. After we interview the families again. Agreed?”

Adaraka rubbed the back of his neck. “Fine.”

There was only so much off the record I could cope with. Procedure first- Blackwatch ghosts could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for delay, this one took some wrangling to get right. As always, reviews are my crack.


	19. The Peace Offering

EPITEIA POLICE STATION, DAY THREE  
_13:42 PM_

The argument with Adaraka had disappeared as quickly as it had come, a summer storm of nothing.

Maybe it was just the stress of the case getting to me, but I knew this one could sink under my scales if I let it. I needed a break, if only for a moment. Remind myself who I was, why I was here-

_‘-and your undersuit,’ she said, clearing her throat. ‘It’s just procedure, Krios.’ The blood of Samuel Austin was only on my stab vest, why did I have to strip for her? I shoved everything in the evidence bag, too angry to-_

My Internal Affairs decision was still ongoing, and no matter how deeply I lost myself in Epiteia, it wouldn’t go away. But I would solve this- I had to. Kaeruns Abtions and Juvus Caeplin were dead because of  corruption that festered in the colony, sunk from the depths of the lake.

 _Bathtub, Rifle, Legion, Missing._ Four words my mind still spoke in a rhythm that wouldn’t quit, but I found the rifle and the legion; Juvus had been lifted from the water from his grave, one of the missing found. The mystery of the bathtub was-

_-her limbs are wet, hair slicked back, water to her breasts. ‘I just sit here,’ Ori said, amused by my fascination. ‘Baths are very boring, Kolyat. Can’t even swim-_

Juvus died from a bullet. So did Kaeruns Abtion, but by his own gun- I didn’t need CSI Vulis’s ballistics report to confirm, there was too much coincidence. But a different weapon murdered a six-year-old boy. Why did-

_-breathe, Kolyat,’ Father said, infuriatingly calm. My nose itched; I was bored of this exercise. ‘Empty your mind. Breathe in-_

Gods damn it, no more. I was tired and hungry; Adaraka’s anger might be gone but mine still simmered, fuelled by my own frustration and lack of food. Memories would shutter in and out if I let them- they always did when I got like this.

“Captain AD has called us in for a meeting,” he said, oblivious to my mood. “And check your ‘tool- forensics just finished the autopsy and sent it over.” CSI Vulis had to cut open a child to find out who murdered him. I would not wish her job on anyone, and wondered if she had even slept in the last 26 hours.

No matter how many forensic reports I looked at, I still forced myself to remember the person. Juvus Caeplin died quickly, minimal amount of suffering- but what comfort was that to his parents? No sexual assault, no signs of abuse, cause of death a confirmation of what I knew; a single gunshot wound to the head.

But he was shoved into a crate and abandoned. Left to rot underwater with no Goddess of the Ocean to carry him over, while two other children remained missing. He was collateral damage for something, I was sure. But why? I had to speak to the families again. Icina Duvitis knew something, I would bet my entire fucking paycheck she would crack if I pushed her too, and I could do nothing until tomorrow thanks to literal thrice fucked doctor orders. Until then there were other solid threads of evidence to pull and follow.

“Captain AD’s face was tight with stress when we got to the incident room. The rest of the team hovered around her, unsure where to look. Their anxiety probably stemmed from the giant fucking hunk of glittering plastic and metal dumped on the table, fragments of dirt and dust littering the floor.

“What from the Depths is that?” I asked, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I realised what it was.

“A 34-b Onlaetia communication and recording device,” said Galnius; not even nerves could keep his enthusiasm at bay. “Such a fun little thing, great to learn how to code signals on. They were invented just for vid-feeds, but they have the potential for so much more. Can send and receive just about any form of information from as far as four systems over, if you calibrate them right. A little less fancy than the Relay generated models, but-”

“ _Enough_ ,” said AD, interrupting the ramble. She turned her sharp gaze to me, annoyed by something. “You wanted me to do something about the satellite- I did. I got the engineers to pull it down as soon as you told me. It arrived while we were at the school.”

Arashu fuck me sideways, I didn’t mean literally. “Efficient,” I said, running a finger along the dirt of the table. “I assume this shuts down the entire camera network of the colony?”

“Oh no,” said Galnius. “Engineers are funneling them through the extranet relays. Don’t worry sir, just means some of the lower priority services are going to be taken away. Vid-games, that sort of thing.”

“That’s unfair,” said Sully, fiddling with the ends of her braid. “Me and the wife have a PvP match planned tonight. How am I going to prove my human superiority now?” Her outburst was duly glared at by AD. “Sorry, ma’am. Was a joke.”

“I didn’t call you here about this,” she said, dismissing the dusty satellite with a wave. “The Primarch is coming sooner than planned. I’ve been told we have to prepare for his visit immediately.”

Adaraka’s mandibles flared so wide beside me I heard them click. “Gods,  _why_?” I said, hands on my hips. I already had a river of shit to wade through, I didn’t need a slimy politician on top of it.

“Because he’s the Primarch. Because-”  she stopped, gritting her teeth. A hand rubbed the top of her rounded stomach with a head shake at us, determined to carry on the meeting. “This is his System, and he has to do something. The Alliance News Network is reporting on this, did you know? The galaxy cares about these children.”

The ANN camera-bot was shoved in my face during the press conference, of course I knew- I did not think morbid curiosity counted as sympathy, however. “Can’t he just offer ‘thoughts and prayers’ via a press statement? Isn’t that what they always do?”

Captain AD gave me a look so cutting I had to force myself not to step back. “ _No_ , DI Krios. He cannot, as his PA has explicitly stated to me over several emails now. He’s due within the next 12 hours, according to the schedule I’ve been given.”

She waved a hand and left us, too irritated to say  goodbye. “Well that’s gone and buggered it, hasn’t it?” said Galnius, omni-tool lit up again over the satellite. “At least I got time to play with this before it all starts.”

“Should you be touching that?” I said. The thing was covered in a weird film of dirt, similar to to the layer of dust I saw over the highest buildings of the Citadel.

“Told you he’d say no,” said Sully, nudging him. She picked up an obnoxious lunchbox meant for a child from her desk and opened it. At my look she smiled, awkward and nervous. “I’m just here to deliver the guns for the evidence locker, the Caeplins handed them over no problem, sir. I’ll go back to them soon.”

“Fine,” I replied, watching her reach for a sandwich. “We should wait for your tech division to look at the satellite first. It’s procedure.”

I heard a snort from Adaraka. “What division? It’s just Galnius,” he said. “He fixed my vid screen last week- made a good job it too.”

“CSI have too much to do already thanks to the ballistics evidence piling up,” said Terix, sitting back by his monitor. “Let Galnius play with the satellite.”

A panel was removed, and my empty stomach pinched when I bent over to look inside the thing. At least Galnius had the sense to scan for DNA first, even if it came back with nothing. “This will be a delight,” he told me, grinning. “Can’t wait to get started. Do you know much about satellites, sir? More than happy to show you.”

His enthusiasm was unsettling. “No. Do you even know what you’re doing?” I asked, desperate to smack away his hands in case he broke something.

“Yes?” he said, brow plates raised. “Why wouldn’t I? I chose Mechanical Engineering at boot. Learned how to code one of these before I knew how to load a Phaeston.”

“You still don’t how to load a Phaeston,” said Terix, scratching his chin. “I don’t know how you passed basic.”

Galnius narrowed his eyes at him. “Get back to your work,” he said.

“Has CSI Vulis even been called?” I asked.

“Maybe we should, just in case,” said Sully, biting her lip. I eyed the sandwich she was waving around, to the annoyance of my still protesting stomach. So far she just _held_  it.

Galnius had reached his limit. “Now look here, you lot.” He had puffed himself up to his full height, a talon pointed at me; it was like being threatened by my cat, even if he was taller than me. “Part of my job during the clean up was to help install the satellite network. You can ...go away politely, is what you can do, sir. Let me do my job.”

If he fucked it up, it would be my fault as their DI, no ‘we’ like Sully assumed.  “Fine,” I said, my stomach pinching me again as I gave in. “Someone please find me a ration bar before _I murder you all._ ”

Sully held her lunchbox to her chest like a shield. It was hard to glare at someone who used a glittery _My Little Moxies_  lunch box, but my temper had found a way.

“Your blood sugars are low, Detective Krios. You should eat something,” VITA said before Sully could reply, lighting my omni tool up.

“Fucking thing,” I muttered. I slapped it away, annoyed. VITA had brought herself into the conversation again, an unwanted blight in my life.  Wordlessly I looked around Sully, trying not to stare at her sandwich again. “Is there anything levo here?”

Sully handed me her lunch without question. “The sandwiches are just protein paste,” she said, looking at me. “Take the entire thing, your eyes are looking more squinty than usual.”

 _Squinty?_ Charming. “It’s yours,” I said, pushing back her lunchbox. I would not take food from someone, not if they went hungry.

_-fucking take it, you idiot,’ he said, making a table out of the rubble for us. Bats was a biotic, he needed fuel more than me. I could go without food again, it was-_

“Oh, it’s fine. This is my second lunch anyway. Terix came over while I was at the Caeplin’s with something. He was worried about me, apparently.”

Terix did everything in his power to not look at us, suddenly very interested in his monitor. “She never eats if you don’t keep an eye on her,” he said, clearing his throat. “Or drink enough water.”

Sully rolled her eyes. “I’m not a plant, Terix.”

There was nothing left to do but give in and accept the lurid purple lunchbox,  _My Little Moxies_  and all. “It’s been …awhile since I ate.” I had skipped breakfast, and last night’s dinner was a few unenthusiastic bites. Coffee and _se’aus_  was the only thing that had lined my stomach in a while.

“We got some ration packs I can heat up, you want one too? Might as well.”

_-say thank you,’ Mami said, squeezing my shoulder. ‘Aunt Mura worked very hard on the meal-_

“Thank you. That would be lovely.”

“Lovely? Wouldn’t go that far.” She tagged Terix on the way out. “See? I told you he was civilised.”

Terix grunted once, amused. “So. The lack of food why you’ve been a raging asshole, or…?”

“Officer Terix!” said Galnius, looking up over the guts of a satellite. “None of that. DI Krios is your superior officer. You apologise right now.”

I shoved the entire sandwich into my mouth and chewed before I answered, ignoring the muttered ‘sorry, sir,’ from Terix. “Assholes make good detectives,” I said. “Got an entire precinct of them back home.”

Adaraka snorted into his kava. “Oh? I missed that module. Or is that just a C-Sec thing?”

Sully had a tiny baggie of _Blast-Ohs!_ for a snack, though I put it to one side to reach for another one of her sandwiches. “Apparently I missed the day when flirting became police procedure,” I said. “You must tell me your methods.”

“Teach you to be civil? Nah, I’ll pass,” he replied, toasting me with his mug. “Anyway, what’s wrong with that? Not had a problem yet.”

“I can think of several problems- your lack of standards, for one,” said Terix. “You’d take a rachni home, detective.”  

“Make ’em sing so pretty, too,” Adaraka replied, hand clutched to his chest. “If that’s the only thing you got against me, I’ll take it.”

I looked away, letting the conversation go. Adaraka’s refusal to follow an order still annoyed me.

With a stomach full of bland sandwiches I felt less dead. I checked out times zones on my omi-tool, noticing a missed call from Ori I had to ignore.

- _please don’t shut me out,’ she said. ‘I know what you do is tough, but-_

It was morning on Manae now. I could follow the under the table lead and still make it in time for the family interviews if I was quick with lunch, but Sully looked remarkably smug about something when she came back. “Guess what I found in our requisitions,” she said, shoving a warm Surkeshian stew in front of me first. A box with a Seized Goods logo followed after.

“Lora and vegetables? Thank you, by the way,” I said, poking my meal. Before I could stop myself I had eaten a quarter of it; salarians were efficient with calorie/bite ratios.

“Well yes, but I found something better, just you wait. I knew we had a box leftover somewhere.”

An entire fucking carton of ‘Rations 3F, Levo’ was dumped on my table with a flourish. What looked like a hundred packs of chocolate pudding sat in front of me, neatly stacked on the other, liquid gold on the black market. “Is this legal?”

“Yep! Help yourself, there’re loads. I knew there were more lying around- no one eats them but me.” Sully smiled, opening her own with her teeth. “Handy having a wife who chases pirates for a living, innit? All above board, don’t worry.”

“Had some of that dextro chocolate once,” said Galnius, a bundle of wires still in his hands. “Not sure what all the bloody fuss was about.”

“Because you have no taste,” she answered. “Is the short answer. I’ve seen your civvies, Galnius.”

I inhaled the rest of my meal so I could move onto the chocolate as soon as I could. “Gods thrice fuck you, Sully. Do you know how many officers you could bribe with this on the Citadel?”

“Fuck you very much too, sir.”

We had reached the casual swearing level of team building, at least. It wasn’t as if I was going to stick around to keep at; they weren’t bad people, just green at police work. “I thought it was all about Jesus with you humans and cursing,” I said. “My Ori says it a lot.”

“M’Jewish,” she said, with a mouthful of her own pudding. “Push off,  _schlub_.”

“My translator made a lovely job of ignoring that,” I said. “I’ll assume you called me an asshole too.”

Sully grinned her answer. “What faith is your Ori anyway? My wife celebrates Passover with me, it’s nice to share something of mine with her.”

“What’s an Ori?” asked Galnius.

Sully shrugged and allowed me to answer first, trying not to smile again.

_-what am to you anyway,’ she said, amused. ‘Lover sounds so dramatic, Kol. What’s wrong with using-_

“-girlfriend,” I answered. “Of three years now. And she’s ‘very atheist,’ to use her words.”

“Your girl’s human, then?” said Adaraka. “You didn’t mention anything.”

It seemed cruel to bring it up when we were alone together, but I knew Adaraka would push the pity away if I offered it now. “I didn’t think it was  _worth_  mentioning.”

He looked away at my answer. “You’re right. We’re on Epiteia,” said Sully, oblivious to his discomfort. “Interspecies is the norm here.”

“Speak for yourself, weirdoes,” said Terix. He was smirking at me now, amused by something. “Never knew you had it you, DI Krios. Huh.” Apparently, my choice of partner changed his opinion of me- probably not one for the better.

“We’re all alien fuckers here. You’re next.” Sully hunched over her pudding with a weird little smile aimed at him, intent on unnerving her friend.

It worked. “Why do you have to go too far?” he replied, grimacing at the thought. “Eat your chocolate and leave me alone.”

_-fuck you, Bats.’ The entire squad was laughing at me again, as usual. ‘No can do, Krios. Go wank off to a memory, I’m busy-_

“Be thankful you just have Sully,” I told him.

I made everyone kava and coffee as a silent apology for my behaviour before we went our separate ways, and helped myself to another chocolate pudding. “Give me five,” I told Adaraka. “I got to make a call before we go. Put out a warrant for Amlio Duvitus, would you? His wife’s in the hospital, and he’s not turned up yet.”

I used the same conference room again for privacy, though it took three attempts before Vovus Felnis picked up. The line was bad, but I could still see he was an older man; I put him in his 80s or 90s, tan hide and plates cracked with age- turians only retired out of necessity.

I was speaking to the last person Kaeruns Abtion had called before he died. “Yes?” he said, waiting for a response.

“Sorry to call you so early. I’m DI Krios of Citadel Security, calling on behalf of the Epiteian Police,” I said. “I also apologise for the line, the colony is having,  _ah_ , satellite issues. I was wondering if you could help me with my enquiries regarding a homicide investigation.”

There was a long pause. I could see he was thinking about getting rid of me, eyes searching my face before they settled on the C-Sec logo on my chest. “Sorry to hear that. What happened?”

Some turians did not roll over so easily to a flash of a badge, as my hospital visit today had proven. I had a feeling Felnis was one of them, and considering I had all the jurisdiction of a used ration wrapper, I had to play this conversation carefully.

“I regret to inform you about the murder of Kaeruns Abtion, if the name is familiar to you. As I understand it, you were in the same legion together.”

“Oh,” he looked away and cleared his throat; he didn’t know about the homicide. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I haven’t seen Kaeruns in decades now.” I shut my mouth so he could go on. “How did you get this number?” he asked, uncertain. “It’s unlisted.”

The heavy burden of Bailey’s under the table information stuck in my throat. It was thanks to him I knew that Abtion called this Felnis over _something,_  but I couldn’t exactly reveal my source.

“We found you in a holo in his home,” I said. “He had no family or friends here, but a box of his old legion things was out on the kava table when we found him. This is just a routine inquiry, we’re working our way through a list.”

While the mention of murder got a reaction, the information that his former colleague died alone and lonely did not. “We were engineers on the  _HSV Drax-Gallix_ ,” he said. “This is going back years now, Spirits. He was my mentor then- I was young when I joined, just left boot. The  _Gallix_  had implemented a new system I helped design.”

“Can you think of anyone who wanted to cause your friend harm?” I asked, keeping my voice deliberately blank.

He refused to look me in the eye. “No. Sorry.” When I only stared back, he asked again: “How did you find me, by the way? This line is a special channel.”

My used ration wrapper authority limped its way into the interview again. “You’re in the system,” I said, vaguely waving aside the question.

“No, I’m not. This place is unlisted and off the charts. _How did you get this number?_ ”

“The Council sent me.” It was my turn to look away.  While it was the truth, I didn’t exactly have the ghostly authority he imagined I had. “This image was prominent in his living room, if you’re familiar.” With a flick of my wrist, I sent him a copy of the old legion photo and hoped the nostalgia would trick him into talking.

A slither of a smile flitted across his face. “Yeah, I recognise it. Shit, we were all so young.”

Felnis swiped it from his sight, annoyed now.  “He called me this week on this line,” he said. “Out of nowhere. I assumed that’s why we’re having this conversation. I only gave him this number in case of emergencies. I, uh, don’t know why I did it. I shouldn’t.”

I pretended to act surprised. “Did he mention anything that stands out? Anything at all, no matter how small. He  _was_ murdered.”

There was another one of those measured pauses. Felnis was a careful speaker; I imagine he was used to holding secrets for his job, though quite how a drivecore specialist ended up in employment in Blackwatch was an interesting change of career.

Perhaps they needed engineers too, though judging but the heavy editing of his Hierarchy profile, there was more to Volnus Felnis than ship mechanics. “He asked me for advice,” he said eventually. “He was worried about something.”

“About what?” I pretended to act surprised at his revelation.

“He wouldn’t tell me directly. I told him to tell you guys if it was that important.”

“Goodness me. It must’ve been, if it got him killed,” I said, losing my patience. “Kaeruns was shot in the head while he was in the bathtub. He died alone, with nobody in his life to mourn him. Anything you know, no matter how vague, will help me. Because whatever he knew got him murdered.”

Felnis leaned back from the camera and the image blurred. “You know I’ve not thought about this shit for years now? Any of it,” he said. I gestured at him to continue, hoping the vidfeed was stronger his end. “He mentioned Captain Tamix.”

I knew enough from my cursory search into their legion to know the name. “Your superior on the  _HSV Gallix_ ,” I replied. “She died twenty years ago.”

“Yep,” he said. “Poured a Drossix Blue out for the bitch when I heard. We all hated her.” He could’ve explained why but refused. “He said it was like Captain Tamix all over again. Whatever it was that got him worried.”

“What does that mean to you?” I asked.

“My time on the  _Gallix_  was decades ago.” He had repeated himself, annoyed he had to. “It means nothing to me.”

“But you still kept in touch with Mr. Abtion.”

“He liked to call me every so often to catch up, I felt sorry for him. Kaeruns rambles about the oddest of things, sometimes,” he said, unaware he still spoke about the man in the present tense. “He became …stranger, over the years. Harder to talk to. I just assumed it was his usual garbage.”

Even old legion comrades had brushed Kaeruns Abtion aside in the end. “Mr. Abtion is connected to a case of a murdered six-year-old boy, and two missing children. What he told you might help me find them.”

There was no more measured pauses this time. “ _Spirits_. No- he was crazy, but not that bad, I-”

“Abtion is not under suspicion, but he knew something,” I said, interrupting him. “What does Tamix mean to you? You said he mentioned her.”

” _Bitch._  That’s what she meant to me. Taught me everything an officer is not.”

A member of Blackwatch was admitting to me that the turian Meritocracy was flawed; that was a big deal. “How so?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

“She liked them fresh out of boot, if you understand me. Had a preference for young blood and would always get it. Tamix would invite you up for a special chat about your career in her private office, saying she’d help you, if you let her. She tried it with me, but the engineering crew looked after their own. Gearheads always do.”

“She was a predator,” I said. So far the case had only whispered the implication of the missing children, not shouted.

“No. An animal hunts because it needs to. What she did was worse.”

My heart sank. Juvus Caeplin may have died of a single gunshot wound to the head with no signs of abuse, but two little girls were still missing. “Why do you think he mentioned her specifically?”

Felnis breathed in heavily, eyes bright now.  “I don’t know.” I looked at my hands; if I pushed too hard, he would end the conversation. “Kaeruns said it completely out of nowhere, in between his neighbourhood watch garbage. ‘Do you remember when we saw that girl with Tamix? I saw it again here,’ he said. I don’t know why he brought it up.”

It didn’t take much to read the subtext. “What girl?” I asked.

_-Oriana had lifted the blanket over us both, eyes not moving from the vidscreen. ‘Please find my girl,’ Icina said, keening. Her grief seemed genuine enough. ‘She had her Commander Jane and Archangel action figures with her, and was wearing a red suit with-_

“One of the captain’s  little obsessions at the time- Sila, her name was. Pretty thing, all red hide and white plates. Me and Kaeruns saw Tamix with her in our storage room once, and-” he stopped himself, and looked the ceiling. “Tamix told us to walk on. ‘ _Carry on, corporal,_ ’ she said. ‘ _Look the other way, this doesn’t concern you._ ’”

He was a plain-speaking man, but the picture he painted was vivid enough. “Was Sila coerced to be there?”

His hands rubbed at the softer skin around his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said, words muffled by his gesture. “She left the ship after her tour was over, just like they always did with Tamix. Bitch hid her indiscretions by moving them out of her sight.”

Another pause, another uncomfortable silence; I let him fill it first. “I looked her up once, years ago when I remembered her again- Sila, I mean. Just to see if she was okay. She became a teacher, married, had kids. I’m glad.”

I did not like the connection of points my thoughts were making; the kidnapping was covered up too, the satellite feeds saw to that. “What do you think Abtion meant by mentioning her to you?”

I was given a turian shrug. “He rambled on about his garden again after. I thought retirement rusted his mind,” he said. “Kaeruns used to send me emails of what the neighbours did on that colony of his, I stopped responding to them over the years. It was just petty nonsense, you know? Someone trampled on his flowerbeds or parked in the wrong place. Nothing as bad as Captain Tamix. I didn’t know he was in trouble. If I did, I would’ve-”

The words never changed, no matter the witness or the case.  _If only I’d known at the time._  “What did he see, do you think? For him to call you like that. On this line, too.”

“I don’t know,” he replied, eyes haunted by his inaction. I believed him, to my annoyance. Here was the only Blackwatch agent willing to talk to me and he knew nothing.

“There’s something else you could help me with,” I said. “There’s a Blackwatch interest in this case. Why?”

I had said the wrong thing. Felnis looked confused at the mention, but I knew he had signed a blanket order of silence relating to his place of employment. “I’ve mentioned all I know,” he said. “If you want anything else, go through the correct channels. I have to go, detective. I’m sorry.”

He cut the line, and when I tried calling back my call was blocked. I made sure the vidfeed had recorded everything, of course, and set it off to Captain AD and my superiors back home. I wasn’t completely stupid, even if I pushed too hard.

As I headed back to the incident room, Galnius waved a datapad under my nose. “What I found so far, before you go. They used a standard scrambler to disrupt the feed,” he said.

“We’ll get them.” I was quietly impressed. He was a uniform filler in my book, but Galnius had proved me wrong with his abilities. He would be transferred to Network Division in C-Sec by now if he was there; colonial policing was not kind to his career.

“Give me an hour sir, I’ll get you more. It was a professional job, yes- but if they wanted to really cover their tracks, they should have destroyed the bloody thing. Oh, how we’ll get them.”

Terix idly pulled at a wire in the satellite as I read the report, only to be rapped with a calibration tool from Galnius. “Who do you think did it anyway?” he asked me, rubbing at the sting.

“The hacking?” I asked.

“Well, yeah. And the murders too.”

I felt the weight of the entire station stare at me. They were desperate to talk about this, just as I was desperate to get on with solving it. “Fine,” I said, throwing the report to one side. “We have suspects thanks to forensics.”

I pointed to the list of DNA found in the crate of Juvus Caeplin. The words were still damning enough, blinking in orange. Pliva Duvitus and Vitelia Aberdas were listed at the top; their parents and Gaius Aberdas, the teenage brother who had identified Kaeruns Abtion for me near his home, and of course our mystery man, Selus Ororian.

Sully looked annoyed, jaw tight. I was about to hear her opinion on the matter again, in no uncertain terms. “All coincidence, I think. It was  _not_ those families. They’re grieving, sir. I know in my gut they did nothing.”

Grief was not an absolution of guilt, and a lone gut feeling was decidedly not police work. “Perhaps. But I believe Icina Duvitus is hiding something,” I told her. “We’re not going to find the two other kids here, and she knows it-

_-don’t touch,’ Icina said from the doorway; Sully hovered behind her, biting her lip. ‘Please. Everything has to be right so when she gets back, Pliva must know where everything is-_

I shook the memory of her child’s pristine room from my mind. “I think Juvus Caeplin was collateral damage in their kidnapping. I also believe Kaeruns Abtion was murdered because he saw-”

_-this goes all the way to the top, and I am in shit if they find out I know.’ Abi whispered the words now, frightened by something-_

Someone needed to find that damn hack of a journalist, and I had too much to do to upend the colony to find her myself.  Did I trust everyone in this room? If I mentioned her name, what would they do?

“Bet it’s the salarians,” said Terix, nodding at me. “Got to be salarians. Always is, grubby bastards.”

“Thank you for your input,” I replied through my teeth. “But I agree, somewhat- there’s another force at play. Could be Blackwatch, could be the fucking Geth for all I know. But your garbage Hierarchical system here has so far kept them hidden. Someone is playing us, and I don’t like it.”

Adaraka looked away, unreadable. “It’s Blackwatch,” he said. “I’m sure of it. I found a guy.”

“And we will look into it together,” I told him. “ _After_  the DNA list is done.”

Judging by the bemused looks, apparently everyone had wildly different ideas to mine. “Icina is grieving to the point of sickness,” said Sully. “I don’t know, sir. I think someone outside the colony did it, like raiders.” I tried not to roll my eyes as they all murmured an agreement. “What about the shooting, anyway?”

I placed the last of my _se’aus_  under my lip, humouring her. “Which one, narrow it down for me.”

“She means yours, sir,” said Galnius, rubbing his chin. Black grease from the guts of the satellite had marked his face, clashing with the yellow of his colony markings. “The one by the ration depot.”

“Ah. That.” I stared at the table before speaking. “Someone doesn’t want me here, but not enough to take me out. I’m used to stray bullets. Comes with the job.”

People liked to shoot at me and get away with it. They might be colonial cops, but they were smart enough to nose into my Internal Affairs case on the sly. No one mentioned it out in the open, but I knew they read the reports; I would, in their position.

“Your theory is better than Terix’s at least,” said Sully. “He thinks the janitor did it, Selus Whatshisface.”

“And I thought his astute observation about salarians was bad enough. A man who we haven’t interviewed yet? Sterling police work Terix- you’ll make detective one day. Let’s go, Adaraka.”

“What, you don’t want to hear my theory?” he said, startling at his shoulder thump. “I’m hurt, Krios.”

I waved him off. “You can tell me in the skycar, we’re wasting time. We have to find Terix’s number one suspect and bring him back in chains. Are there any in the station we could use?”

“Sorry, all out. But Captain AD’s got a replica of the first handcuffs used for police work in her office. If you’re into that sort of thing.” He leered; of course he did, it was Adaraka.

_-I’ve been bad.’ Oriana sat in the back of the skycar and offered her bare wrists to me. Gods, no, Ori please. ‘If you know what goes on back there you wouldn’t. Bats had to wash out piss this morning, don’t-_

“No. Let’s go.”

The journey was in silence, but my mind kept on returning to Abtion’s old legion comrade and the abuse of power from their captain. I used most of the time to email Abi. _I believe you_ , I wrote.  _Please get in touch- I can help._

“Talk to me about Blackwatch,” I asked Adaraka, switching off my omni-tool with a snap. I had a missed call from Ori; she always understood why I didn’t always answer right away, but I still felt guilty.

“Anything specific?” he said, setting the cruiser on autopilot so we could talk.

The light was beginning to fade over the rings of Iritum. Epiteia’s night cycle was programmed to be beautiful, but I still missed the blue of the Citadel. “You found my guy,” I said, eyes on the horizon. “The one I saw that day. You say he’s here, hiding from us.”

“The intel is _good_ , Krios. Trust me.” This was Adaraka’s beat. If he were a detective on another Ward, I would without question.

A shooting star drifted across the skyline. I didn’t know if was fake or real, thanks to the biodome. “We will pay him a visit after we see Selus Ororian,” I said.  “He might talk.”

Adaraka smiled at me, relieved. “Good. He’s hiding out in the new prefabs we have marked for the next wave of refugees- I mean immigrants. Can’t call them refugees anymore.”

“A super elite soldier here in the colony,” I said.  A super elite soldier pissing in my case, for some fucking reason.  “What even is Blackwatch, anyway?”

“Best of the best,” he replied. “Look, if you want something done without fuss, you send in them. HVT elimination, special recon, raids, that sort of thing. They’re not Spectres or the Hierarchy Intelligence Service as everyone assumes. HIS are just glorified civil servants anyway.”

“Know the feeling.” Every cop no matter the species knew their pledge to their policing, especially in C-Sec.

Adaraka chuckled. “Me too. But my legion worked with a Blackwatch unit after the clear-up,” he said. “We joined up to take out a nasty raider crew making themselves at home in Castellus.”

He said it with such longing I wondered if he wanted to go back; I knew his part in certain post-war operations earned him a letter of recommendation from the Primarch, and even though turians thought police work was an honour, it was still a quiet post compared to other colonies. “Ever thought about trying out?”

“You don’t ‘try out’ in a Meritocracy,” he said, snorting at me. “Humans do that, don’t they? Anyone can do their N7 trials, that’s just crazy.”

“Hmm. The Compact is both,” I said. “But we start at a young age-

_-Sings Laughing Waves looked at me, a tentacle over my fins. I don’t understand why the school sent me here, and look away. ‘This One understands biotics are a family trait?’ he said. ‘This One is curious if there are signs of talent-_

“The more I learn about your Compact, the more it creeps me out,” said Adaraka. “No offence.”

“None taken. It’s a complicated issue,” I said, my usual non-answer whenever I was asked about it.

“Is it?” Adaraka looked at me in disbelief. “Really?”

I was content enough to tell him my reality; none of it mattered to him. “I told them no,” I said. “I was only worth something to them  _after_  I graduated C-Sec Academy. They called me to the embassy a week after, saying how it was for the good of all of Kahje I had.”

He eyed me carefully. “C-Sec is an honour, Krios.”

“I know, and one I’ve earned myself. I told the ambassador where exactly they could shove their blessing, by the way. Even hanar can fuck themselves if they’re careful about it.”

The truth made him laugh, at least. “And here me thinking the tentacles make it easy,” he replied. “Word of advice, though? Don’t ever join the Hierarchy.”

“Noted. I’m registered as an Independent, if you know what that means.”

“I do now,” he said. “Shit, Krios. No wonder people like shooting you.”

The conversation reached a lull, but I realised that Adaraka never answered my question. “Would you tell Blackwatch where to shove their obligations?” I asked, trying again. “If they offered you a spot?”

He looked away with a smile; the longing had returned. “Of course not,” he replied, quiet now. “It’d be tough, but I’d enjoy it. Even if they’re meddling in our case, you don’t turn away a promotion like that. Though knowing my luck, I’d be stuck guarding the Primarch my entire career if I made the cut.”

Adaraka parked the skycar, moments away from our next interview. “One thing I don’t quite understand is why they haven’t told us to let this all go and pull rank,” I said, refusing to move. “It happens with Spectres every so often back home. Assholes strut themselves into our precinct and take over a case, and we can do nothing about it.”

“Aww, Krios. What did Agent Blasto ever do to you?”

“Fuck off,” I replied, though my heart wasn’t in it. “What I don’t get is if Blackwatch is involved as they are, why is nothing in the open? They shot at a C-Sec officer. It was a warning, but still. I’m still standing here.”

I had my suspicions, but I wanted to see what conclusion Adaraka had reached. “You know I have been asking that very question since you got here?” he said. “Why is Kolyat Krios still alive? Funny how the universe works.”

“Hilarious,” I replied, ignoring the sass. “But Blackwatch has since backed off. Why?” I was trained to react to threats as a detective, not as an elite agent. I was not my father, Compact born and bred; I was not Commander Shepard-

_-know your father would be so very proud of you, Kolyat.’ Oriana squeezed my hand once as I looked at the floor, awkward as the silence bloomed around us. Shepard cleared her throat once. ‘I should leave you kids to it. Help yourself to food and-_

Adaraka sighed beside me, his eyes on the houses as we still stood by his vehicle. “The Council was smart, sending you,” he said. “Journalists have been asking about DI Krios since the press conference, according to Galnius. We’ve been fielding questions all day, even had the Alliance News Network call. No one’s mentioned anything incase you yelled.”

Fucking Internal Affairs. Fucking Austin case. Fucking press, thrice fuck them all. “We’re strained as it is. I’m... sorry. It’s no one’s fault here.”

He looked at me and shrugged. “You’re famous.” If Adaraka mentioned why then I _would_  yell. “Are you sure you want to stay at that prefab of yours all alone?” he said, smart enough to change the subject. “I got a comfy couch with your name on it, if you want it. Just to make sure- it’s not safe you being out there.”

“No,” I said. “I’m fine. Let’s get the interviews out the way. You never know, Terix might be right.”

“He will never let it go if he is.”

Someone somewhere was abusing their power in covering this up, and I would follow it all the way to the top if I had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A month since an update, I'm sorry. I decided to take on 6 paintings and two stories in the past three weeks. Don't do that, it's very silly.

**Author's Note:**

> Character cast list for Disconnect:[ **read here**](https://docs.google.com/document/d/17HeGOHJ3o-Dt5-QZE4YL0_046mcx8oaDfXb_2ivJlEU/edit?usp=sharing)


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